Evolution Leaps into the Stream of Life
by Shadow Master
Summary: (BtVS/FF7 Universe/Elements of Marvel Comics/Elements of DC Comics) You ever have a plan to turn the tables on someone you hate? A way to turn a sucky night into something fun? Xander does but then 'good intentions' comes into play.
1. Chapter 1

"Evolution Leaps into the Stream of Life" by Shadow Master

(BtVS/FF7 Universe/Marvel Comics/DC Comics)

email: ryley[underscore]breen

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the copyrighted material contained herein. They are the rightful property of their respective creators and associated companies. I make no profit off of this whatsoever and have no intention of changing this for the remainder of my life. I write fan fiction because I enjoy doing so and because there are those that like reading my stories. Therefore I would greatly appreciate it if no lawsuits or other legal action was taken against me because I can promise you whatever you get out of me won't cover even a tenth of your legal fees.

Note 1: This is a fair warning to readers that what you're about to read will be decidedly different than your run-of-the-mill crossovers involving these properties. There WILL be deviation from canon. There WILL be unusual spins on classic characters, places and events. There may even be times when you might have to look up some information on Wikipedia or more specialized wikis devoted to the mentioned properties. If you dislike these sort of things and would prefer a more traditional crossover I suggest you hit the back button on your internet browser right now.

Note 2: Yes this starts off as your usual YAHF but that's most because it's a handy start off point. However rest assured that after this fanfic gets some traction it'll throw your predictions out the window.

Note 3: I won't give specifics (don't want to spoil the surprise too early) but in terms of origin points for the elements from Marvel Comics it'll be from their cinematic universe primarily with the mainstream comic book universe for those who have yet to show up in the movies. For the DC Comics element it'll be from the pre-Flashpoint universe not the post-Flashpoint universe.

 _Evolution Leaps into the Stream of Life_

 _ **Earth-041097**_

 _ **Sunnydale, California, USA**_

 _ **10/30/97**_

 _ **Sunnydale High School, Evening, Xander's POV**_

"Xander? I'm not sure we should be doing this," Willow said from behind his crouched form, sounding like a girl that was about to do something that 'proper girls' were not supposed to.

"C'mon, Willow!" he said as he continued to go to work on the lock on the door in the hopes of picking it. "You've seen how he's treated us since he took over for Flutie. Do you really think he's not going to try and do SOMETHING to ruin the second greatest event in a teenager's life?"

"Second greatest?" she asked out of curiosity even as she looked about to make sure no one spotted them.

"Yep. Halloween is the second greatest and summer vacation is number one!" he said with enthusiasm, especially since he thought he felt himself making some progress.

"Not Christmas?" she asked, no doubt wondering why he hadn't chosen it as number one.

"Nope. With Christmas you have to get presents for other people, you get things you don't want but still have to smile about and some of the things you give others they don't like," he replied, showing that he had thought a lot about it. "With summer vacation there's no going wrong because people can decide on their own what they want to do or get. It's cheaper and you're more likely to be happy with what you get."

He didn't need to look at Willow to know she was rolling her eyes a bit at his line of logic but to him they had more important things to worry about at the moment. No, it wasn't some demon trying to end the world or a bunch of students dying under supernatural circumstances. While still capable of surprising or horrifying him from time to time, he'd become somewhat desensitized to what the nightlife of Sunnydale could throw at him. It'd gone from 'WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!' to 'this is SO not of the good' in terms of fear level, so it took something a little above average to get him emotionally distressed.

What he was concerned with now was the fact that tomorrow was Halloween and the Scooby gang planned on staying in to watch a horror movie marathon. Though Buffy had naturally wanted Deadboy there, he was actually looking forward to the get together because he was certain the Slayer would start spouting slayage advice for every movie. From Krueger to Jason to Michael, she'd point out the right way to kill them while ridiculing the lead actors for all the common sense mistakes they made trying to survive. He imagined it'd be kinda like watching Cordy tear into someone for the way they dressed, citing numerous violations of the fashion code.

It'd be worth a few laughs at the very least and skimming from the Summers family treat bowl would be the icing on the cake.

The potential problem was the fact that Sunnydale High School's new principal, Robert Snyder, had turned out to be the complete opposite of Flutie. Where Flutie had been an upbeat man who always tried to keep positive to the point where some people thought he kept himself regularly medicated, Snyder was a perpetually angry troll who saw every student as a failure from the get go. There wasn't a single time he'd seen the man where he wasn't treating one student like they were a future resident of San Quentin State Prison. Even the students that gave him something to brag about to the school board or the mayor weren't exempt from his wrath if they dared to defy him.

More than anything, though, the man seemed to take special pleasure in making life miserable for the Scooby gang in any way that he could.

There were times when he was almost certain that what Snyder did was a violation of some sort of law or statute but the one time he'd actually looked it up he found that Sunnydale was oddly granted some leeway in that area. In any case, with all this learned since the first day of the current school year, there was no doubt in his mind that the principal was going to try something to ruin Halloween. He didn't know precisely what it was but, thanks to strolling by the faculty room earlier, he knew it involved signing up for something. Considering no student would consider signing up for something that'd take away from their valuable Halloween partying time, he suspected Snyder would force compliance from some people.

Basically a case of 'voluntelling' people what they'd be doing Halloween night.

Naturally this went his ingrained belief in free will, self-determination and the right of teenagers to do what they want outside of school within reason. So he was with Willow picking the lock on Snyder's office with the intent of finding out what the little troll had in mind for the unsuspecting students. He was no professional thief but thanks to the number of times Tony had locked him out of the house, he did have some experience picking locks. It wasn't easy but he could tell that he was making progress with the lock in front of him, so he imagined it'd only take a few more minutes to get in.

Click!

 _Or none at all,_ he thought as he turned the doorknob and pulled.

Being ever so careful not to let the door produce any loud squeaks he opened it just far enough so that he and Willow could squeeze inside before just as carefully closing it. With that done he went over to the man's desk and began to look everywhere he could think of where the man might have details about his little Halloween 'surprise'. Most of the stuff he found was just your typical school bureaucracy nonsense but it was as he opened the second drawer from the top that he finally hit jackpot.

'Sunnydale High School Halloween Chaperone Duty' was written at the top with lines underneath for the signatures of the students Snyder wound up roping into the job. Considering the fact that there were quite a few copies of the sign up sheet, he felt it safe to say that at least a tenth of the high school population could potentially be roped into the job. If there was some indication about where Snyder would be having people sign up he could tell the gang where not to be tomorrow, but there wasn't. One thing he did notice though was a box next to every line where the signature was supposed to go.

"Xander?" Willow asked, causing him to look up from the papers.

In the corner of the room, one he hadn't seen due to how the door opened, there was a plain looking cardboard box but Willow tilted it he could see a hole in the top. Curious, he walked over to her and she lifted the top of the box up, allowing them to look to see what was inside. What he found though were numerous slips of paper with what he presumed were costume ideas and next to them were numbers. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Snyder intended to have those who signed up for chaperone duty pull their costume ideas at random from the box, then have the number from the slip put in the boxes next to the signatures. However, from what he could see, the costume choices were innocent sounding on the surface but beneath that surface he could see Snyder's low opinion of the student body.

Costumes that could be seen as foolish by some people as well as outfits that held various connotations by the mainstream society that would open people to name calling or ridicule.

In other words torture for the people who wound up being lassoed into the chaperoning.

How they'd be treated would last far beyond Halloween night and probably would take at least a year to recover from.

 _Not on my watch!_ He took the box of paper slips and threw them in the trash.

"Xander?" Willow asked, sounding both worried and interested.

"He's setting us up to make us look like idiots, Willow!" he exclaimed as loudly as he dared. "This is just another one of his ways of making everyone miserable and himself happy!"

"And you plan to do what?" she asked, no doubt figuring that Snyder would notice the missing slips of paper.

"Beat him at his own game. Grab some paper and a pen," he said, getting an idea that would really piss off the little troll.

He knew that even if he managed to somehow stop Snyder's plan, the bastard would only come up with something later but if he managed to outsmart the asshole it'd make him cautious for a time. If the man didn't know who'd outsmarted him, he'd be unable to decide what to do next being unable to anticipate his unseen opponent's actions. However in order to make sure this worked he'd have to make sure his handwriting couldn't be identified or else it'd all blow up in his face.

He'd probably need Willow to make sure everything went smoothly; she was the genius after all, but his imagination was conjuring so many exciting images he was willing to take the chance.

This was going to be AWESOME!

 _ **The Next Day, Approaching the Student Lounge, Buffy's POV**_

"So are you guys ready for tonight?" she asked as they walked towards the student lounge. "I managed to convince Mom to buy double the candy so there'd be enough for everyone."

"Sounds good," Xander said, looking forward to tonight.

"Yeah. Fun," Willow said, sounding a little off.

"Something wrong, Willow?" she asked, a little concerned that something might be up.

"No! Just… just hoping nothing Hellmouthy happens to ruin everything," Willow replied like a switch had been flipped inside of her.

That made sense.

It'd happened often enough that, when they were trying to have fun or relaxing at the Bronze, something would pop up and be all Grrr-Aarrgh, forcing them to deal with it. It was one of the things she hated about living on the Hellmouth, hated about being the Slayer, that they couldn't live normal lives like everyone around them. When something demony or involving magic popped up, they had to take action because to do otherwise would've been unacceptable. As the Slayer she'd never be free of that sort of thing, so she'd never get a completely normal life because either she'd have to go after the demons or they'd come after her.

That was why tonight'd be different.

"Don't worry, Willow. I already talked to Giles and he says that tonight's dead for the undead," she said, reassuring her friend that everything would be okay. "They stay inside."

"Halloween quiet? Oh, I figured it'd be a big old vamp scare-apalooza," Xander said with a bit of humor. "Those wacky vampires! That's why I love 'em! They just keep you guessing!"

"SUMMERS!" came a voice that made her cringe with distaste.

Turning around she saw the one person she was quickly coming to despise and wish was really a demon so she'd get to kill him and finally be rid of him.

"Principal Snyder!" she exclaimed, trying to sound like she was 'overjoyed' to see him.

"Halloween must be a big night for you. Tossing eggs, keying cars, bobbing for apples; one pathetic cry for help after another," Snyder said as he approached with a clipboard in hand. "Well, not this year, missy."

With that he shoved the clipboard into her hands before dragging her by the elbow over to a table where a cardboard box sat.

"Gosh, I'd love to sign up, but I recently developed carpal tunnel syndrome, and can tragically no longer hold a flashlight," she said, trying to sound honest and not the least bit like she was trying to slink out of anything.

Judging by the look on the man's face, he wasn't buying it.

"The program starts at four, the children have to be back at six," Snyder snarled before offering her a pen. "Sign on the line and then get a slip of paper from the box."

While she was sorely tempted to tell the prick to go fuck himself, that wouldn't be smart and it'd only get in her in trouble with her mother. Thus it was with the utmost reluctance that she took the pen and signed on the top line on the sheet. From what she could see she was the first person to get corralled into the chaperoning but this was definitely not one of the times where being the first was a good thing. Once that was done she went over to the box and reached in, trying to pick one slip of paper rather than multiple. Taking it out she looked at what was written on it and found herself oddly happy by what she'd gotten.

Belle (Beauty and the Beast).

While she would've preferred something a little less child oriented, she'd seen the animated Disney movie enough times that she knew it matched the noblewoman dress she'd originally wanted to get. With a little luck it'd be enough to make her look like the sort of girl Angel would've loved to date back when he was still human.

Snyder snatched the slip out of her hand rather rudely but, when he read what was on it, a distinctly unhappy look blossomed on his face that made her feel so much better. From the looks of things he'd expected her to pick out something decidedly more to his liking than her own and probably capable of ruining her entire night. Guess this was one of the times when random chance worked in her favor.

Too bad Snyder's anger at the unwanted turn of events caused him to set his sights on Willow and Xander.

Taking the clipboard and the pen, he put it into Xander's hand first but no one could mistake the look on his face as anything other than 'the redhead is signing too'. The founding male member of the Scoobies looked like he was having similar thoughts to what she'd had when handed the clipboard but, like a true friend, he didn't leave her to fend for herself. He scribbled his name on the sign in sheet before passing it to Willow and moving over to the box. Xander reached in just like she did and a moment later pulled out a slip but, after looking at it with a big smile, he turned it around so that she could see it.

Wolverine (X-Men).

The principal finally got the slip and his displeasure only went up further, making her think that something hadn't gone according to plan with the preparations. Considering how menial it probably was, Snyder probably delegated the details to another member of the faculty and now it was coming to bite him in the ass. She wanted to smile, she wanted to LAUGH, but doing so would only get them all into more trouble so she kept it contained in her thoughts.

Willow was next to draw a slip from the box, having finished signing her name and, much like Xander had beforehand, she read it and then showed it to the rest of them.

Iron Man (Avengers).

This was a little odd because, based on the name and what she'd seen on the covers of some of the comic books Xander sometimes brought to their research sessions, the character was a guy, not a gal. She could see that Willow was about to point that out and perhaps ask for a redraw but, considering the mood Snyder was in, that was probably not the best of ideas. The man would probably do something crazy and spiteful, neither of which would be good for the first friend she'd made since coming to Sunnydale. Putting the slip next to her friend's name on the clipboard, she decided that a hasty retreat was the best course of action.

"Well, we gotta go get ready for taking the kids trick or treating!" she said, grabbing her friends by the elbow and pulling them away from the student lounge area. "Have a good day, Principal Snyder!"

It didn't take long for the others to follow her lead and seconds later they were around the corner, out of the pissed of troll's line of sight. She waited a little longer until they were out of earshot as well before she finally let out the laughter she'd been holding in ever since things first started going wrong for Snyder. After all the times the man had come down on her, made her day miserable and generally treated her like some kind of gang member, this was probably as close as she'd get to retribution. The others joined her in her hilarity, drawing a few looks from the other students in the hallway, but she didn't really mind all that much.

They gave her looks anyway so it was all pretty much par for the course.

Even though she'd never played any golf other than mini-golf, she knew what that meant.

"Did you see the look on his face?!" she asked as she got her laughter under control. "I didn't know you could turn that shade of purple!"

"No kidding! I thought he was going to pop a brain cell for a minute there." Xander said, enjoying what'd happened as much as she was. "Man, do I feel sorry for the next person he grabs."

"Maybe it'll be Cordelia or one of her minions," Willow suggested, sounding like she'd almost wanted to go back just to see if it'd happen.

"Hey, with the way our luck is going, it might happen," Xander said, sounding optimistic about their chances. "Still, I'm not gonna push my luck by going back. How about you guys?"

Both Willow and she shook their heads, sharing their friend's position that pushing your luck on top of the Hellmouth was generally not conducive to good health and long life.

"Then let's head to our next class," Xander said, not sounding too enthusiastic. "The sooner we get through it and the next, the sooner we can go get our costumes."

Nodding in agreement she oddly found herself looking forward to the evening.

Even though she'd have to lead a group of kids around trick-or-treating for two hours, she'd still get to wear the costume she wanted and, if all she got in return was pissing Snyder off, then it was a good deal in her mind.

A very good deal indeed.

 _ **Business District, Ethan's Costume Shop, After School Let's Out, Willow's POV**_

"Not bad. I thought with the place being new and all, the owner wouldn't be able to buy this much quality stuff," Xander said as they let their eyes wander the store. "Definitely better than seeing what the local department store has."

"Let's split up and see what we can find that'll work with our costumes," Buffy said, taking charge of the situation immediately. "An hour's just barely enough time for me to get ready."

With a nod she decided to go with Xander since his costume and her costume were from the same universe and so anything they could use for their outfits would probably be in the same area. Walking along, she was surprised to see Cordelia and Harmony there but then she remembered what she'd said during lunch hour and a smile came upon her face.

 _Looks like my dream came true,_ she thought with malicious glee.

The only thing she was disappointed about was the fact that none of the costume ideas Xander had put in the box with would humiliate Cordelia all that much. Two thirds of it had been typical guy stuff, meaning cool badass stuff for guys and for the female costumes stuff that was either skintight or showed off considerable skin. Naturally she eventually stepped in, since if she didn't she knew that she'd wind up wearing one of his suggestions and she didn't have nearly enough self-confidence for that. So with her 'Resolve' face clearly in place she forced him to put in some normal costumes as well as one she knew Buffy wanted so she could impress Angel. Her friend had looked annoyed at her Belle suggestion but he still put it into the box, probably figuring that the odds of Buffy getting it were small.

In the case of Cordelia and Harmony, though, they were skanky enough that they wouldn't care how revealing or skintastic their outfits were. They'd probably feel right at home wearing them and enjoy the looks they got from all the guys, even if they were all pervy looks. After all, that's what all the rich girls were: arm candy for rich boyfriends. Probably baby makers, too, with the only price tag attached to their services being gifts, luxury accommodations and money. It wasn't like any of them had anything other than their bodies to work with. She'd heard enough of their answers in class to know that they barely had enough brain cells in between their ears to keep themselves from being held back a year.

Then again maybe the deep pockets of their parents had something to do with that.

 _Whatever! Gotta focus on my costume,_ she thought as she arrived at the superhero costume section. _I don't want to give Snyder any more reasons to give me trouble._

Knowing what the armored Avenger looked like, she let her eyes go from costume to costume to find something that would suit her needs. After a minute she had her suspicions confirmed in that whoever ran the shop hadn't purchased any fake red and gold armor that she could wear. That put a bit of crimp in her plans since it'd be kind of hard to pull off Iron Man without it but she wasn't willing to give up just yet. If she couldn't go as Iron Man, she'd try to dress up as the hero's civilian identity of Tony Stark since all that'd require would be a business suit, a fancy looking cell phone, a fake Rolex and maybe a briefcase. Looking around she tried to find a ladies business suit that would be in keeping with what Xander had told her about Tony Stark's personality but at the same time not be too showy. She might like the fact that the two of them managed to show up Snyder by changing the slips of paper in the box but she still didn't want to draw too much attention to herself.

 _Why did I let him drag me to the student lounge with Buffy?_ she asked for the tenth time since they'd hooked up with Buffy to go there. _Sure, it made sense to go to make sure Snyder didn't suspect us of doing anything but it still takes two hours out of our evening. Guess there's no sense crying over spilt milk now._

"Can I help you two with anything?" asked a British voice from behind them without any warning.

"EEP!" she squeaked as her heart skipped a beat in shock.

"Yikes! Don't do that!" Xander exclaimed, spinning around to face the speaker.

"Sorry, lad. Old habits die hard, I'm afraid," the dark haired British man said with a smile. "I was something of a prankster in my youth and you don't do very well if you can't sneak up on people. Ethan Rayne, owner and proprietor, at your service."

That made sense but it didn't make her heart feel much better.

"Now, is there something in particular you two are looking for?" Mister Rayne asked, looking from her to Xander and back again.

"Well, we've 'volunteered' to chaperone some kids around for Halloween tonight and we need costumes. Specifically Wolverine and Iron Man from the comic books," Xander replied, looking like he thought it'd save them some time. "Don't suppose you have them in stock? If not the whole costumes than at least the bits and pieces we can put together with some stuff at home?"

"I'm familiar with the characters but I don't believe I have the entire costumes in shop," Mister Rayne said with moderate focus as he tried to recollect his entire inventory. "However I think I might have some odds and ends in back that might just do the trick. Wait right here and I'll be back in two shakes."

With that the man left them standing next to the superhero costume section with nothing to do but browse through the outfits neither of them wanted until he got back. Looking to occupy her mind, she could see costumes from the DC comics universe like Wonder Woman and Superman as well as a few from Marvel Comics but with the latter nothing either she or Xander could use. She'd casually leafed through a few of Xander's comics over the years but never really got into them as much as he had simply because they were too unrealistic from a scientific standpoint. Many of the abilities, technologies or phenomenon depicted in the comics had no basis in the laws of science and the few that did would take centuries for them to reach in real life. Xander often accused her of being contradictory, saying why did she give comic books such a hard time when she absolutely loved romance and fantasy novels. Up until the two of them got introduced to the truth about Sunnydale she'd just said that the former was just so dreamy and the latter had more thought put into it.

After all, how could you compare the world of Dungeons & Dragons and Lord of the Rings to stories that got retconned or warped every couple of years to boost sales?

Then, when the truth about Sunnydale became known, she'd pointed out that at least magic and monsters had basis in fact unlike superheroes, who'd never become real in his lifetime.

It was about ten minutes later, the limit of Xander's patience learned from past experience, that Mister Rayne returned carrying quite few things in his arms.

"Well, it was a bit of a bother getting it all but I believe you will pleased with what I have to offer," Mister Rayne said with a smile as he put his burdens down on a nearby table. "First for the young lady I managed to acquire a ladies business suit like the one over there. Successful lady C.E.O. is popular this year. Black pants and a blazer with a single button in the front as well as some pleated shoes of the same color, with all the items appearing to be of an expensive nature. Also this plastic toy communicator that you could feasibly pass off as an advanced cell phone and then there is THIS."

Looking down along with the store owner she saw a rather large looking metal suitcase, almost too big for her to even consider trying to lug around leading the kids, colored red and gold just like the Iron Man armor.

"Now, while I don't have Iron Man armor, I recall a cartoon show back in '94 where he had a suitcase suit of armor that he carried with him. Naturally there's nothing actually in this suitcase, so if any of the children you're leading around ask you'll have to find some excuse to explain why you can't open it," Mister Rayne said, holding up the suitcase so she could look at it clearly. "Still, this is the best I can do without having a fake high tech armored suit to give you. Will it suffice?"

Going over to the items on the table meant for her, she had to admit that the business suit looked nice enough and didn't look like it'd need any alterations to fit her. Rather remarkable that he had one in her size but it'd definitely make things easier on her. However, after examining it all, she found one little crimp in the outfit that needed to be addressed.

"There's no shirt to go under the blazer," she said, looking to Mister Rayne for an explanation.

"Actually for that particular business suit no shirt is required," Mister Rayne said impartially as he looked back at her. "The opening left between the shoulders and the button is supposed to be a sort of plunging neckline as I understand it. Naturally to wear it as intended, young miss, you'd have to forgo wearing either a shirt or a brassiere."

Red!

She just knew her face was red at the moment!

"T-there's no WAY… it'd e-expose…" she sputtered out, trying to deny the very idea of wearing the suit like that.

"Chill, Willow," Xander said, putting a calming hand on her shoulder. "He said you'd only have to do it if you planned on wearing it as INTENDED. If you don't want to then we'll just grab a blouse or something from your closet. No one will know but you, me and him that it's supposed to be worn differently."

"Yeah. You're right," she said, finally managing to clam down at the news that she could do something to cover up better.

"I promise, my dear, I won't tell a soul," Mister Rayne said with strong resolve. "A pity though. Personally I think you could've pulled off the intended look brilliantly."

She knew she went a bit red again at the compliment but she appreciated it all the same since it was rare that anyone said such things about her.

"Now as for you, young man, I was able to find a few things that should work out for you," Mister Rayne said as he picked up a box that looked like it held an expensive gun or numerous cigars. "I happen to have a friend in the movie prop business and not too long ego he was asked to make a rough idea of what they could use for an X-Men movie. Apparently some Ryan Winner or something was slated to be in charge so my friend went all out to make something suitable choosing Wolverine's claws since he specialized in making weapons."

With a bit of theatrical presentation Mister Rayne opened the box to reveal six impressive looking blades, a handle connecting each three she saw. It made sense since that was how it was in the comics, three blades popping from each hand, and while it'd look a little off it couldn't be helped since it wasn't like they could actually implant them in between Xander's fingers. Looking a little closer, though, she noticed something she hadn't expected even from a quality movie prop.

"They're not made of plastic!" she exclaimed in surprise at her discovery.

"Right you are, young lady. Each of the blades is made out of quarter inch thick fifty-one sixty spring steel, put through a belt grinder to refine the edges and then taken to an induction forge to make the bevels on the blades. Each blade is heat treated, cooled in oil and fine-tuned until they became what you see before you. The handles are made from aluminum, though, and were cut as short as possible so that they wouldn't stand out too much," Mister Rayne said, sounding like he enjoyed how the prop was made.

"Cool!" Xander enthused, clearly in love with the props.

"Are they sharp?" she asked, not wanting to risk Xander hurting himself or one of the children he'd be leading about town.

"No, no, of course not! Before he sold them to me he personally blunted the edges of the blades without ruining the overall appearance," Mister Rayne replied hastily, clearly thinking that selling a real weapon unthinkable. "True, if you slashed hard enough or thrust them with enough force they could do some damage but otherwise they're perfectly harmless."

This comforted her somewhat since it meant that, unless Xander actually intended to hurt someone, the blades would be completely safe to use with his costume. Looking at her best friend, she could see that he was a little disappointed that the blades were blunt but that was probably because he wanted to see Buffy use them against some vampires. It wouldn't be the same as using it himself, she guessed, but it wouldn't be safe for someone like Xander to get that close to a vampire or a demon.

"Now, in addition to the claws I also picked up a few other things for your costume idea," Mister Rayne said as he set down the claw case before picking up something else. "Three fake Cohiba cigars, a small tube of styling gel for your hair, a simple golden longhorn belt buckle and lastly a brown biker leather jacket. Put it all together with a white undershirt, some jeans and maybe some boots and I think it'll do quite nicely for you."

Indeed it would.

While not being overly familiar with the contents of Xander's closet, she knew he had blue jeans, a belt and a white undershirt since she'd seen him wear each before. Looking at all the things Mister Rayne had brought out to them, she had only one question left that needed an answer.

"How much?" she asked, hoping that it wouldn't be too expensive.

Sure, her parents had gotten her a credit card for emergencies but she'd prefer it if they could just pay cash so that she didn't have to explain the purchases later. Her mother and father were a little unusual in that they didn't approve in overspending for certain mainstream holidays and Halloween was one yearly event they went a bit cheap on.

Contrary to what Xander might think, she hadn't worn a ghost costume the last five times in a row JUST because she was hiding from their fellow classmates.

"Well, normally all these items put together would run you about seventy-three dollars but, seeing as how I am new to town and could use the business, I'll drop it down to thirty-five dollars," Mister Rayne replied, sounding like he was hoping they'd be okay with it. "Just be sure to tell all your friends where you got them and that should more than make up the difference."

"Done!" she and Xander declared at the same time since they'd have to be idiots to pass up a sweet deal. "Jinx!" they both said though with no clear winner.

"Then if you'll follow me to the cash register I will bag your purchases immediately," Mister Rayne said with a satisfied smile before gathering the various items into his arms.

She couldn't help but smile at the good luck the Scoobies were having, first with getting back at Snyder then getting good costume picks and now getting said costumes at a good price.

Maybe living on the Hellmouth wasn't a completely awful thing after all.

 _ **The Harris Home, Twenty Minutes Later, Xander's POV**_

 _Not the best shape to pull off Wolverine but then the jacket'll help with that,_ he thought as he stood before his bedroom mirror in jeans and a white undershirt.

Still, he take some pride in how much more chiseled his body had become since fighting alongside Buffy. Where before he was pretty much as gangly as your average teenager, now after fighting (or in some cases running away from things that went bump in the night), a lot of the fat had been burned away. He'd still have to work out, knock back some protein to help in the muscle building and improve his stamina for a while, a long while, before he'd come even close to Logan's physique. A goal worth striving for; the right body and the right classes, he'd be able to contribute more to the Scooby gang. Oddly enough, getting a toned body was the easy part of becoming a fighter because all it required was lifting weights, running, crunches as well as an assortment of other exercises. The problem popped up when it came to learning how to fight at a level where he'd be able to defend himself against a fledgling at the very least.

Sadly there weren't any karate classes or boxing gyms around Sunnydale where he could sign up so, aside from asking Giles for a few pointers he was going to have to try to teach himself.

Not loving the odds of him getting it right.

Slipping on the brown leather biker jacket, he found that it was a little big on him but not overly so, saving him from any potential hurtful comments from jocks like Larry. It'd been equally easy to for him to get the belt buckle into place and he had to admit that it added a certain degree of toughness to the whole look. He'd managed to find some of Tony's old boots that went up to just under the knee and didn't look like something that Logan wouldn't touch with a teen foot pole. They were pretty plain looking, dark brown with thick black bottoms, but since Wolverine wasn't a fashion freak and preferred function over appearance, they'd do in a pinch.

Picking up the small tube of hair gel, he squeezed a little bit out and began to push back his hair into something loosely approximating the style depicted in the comic books. It wouldn't be perfect due to the fact that his hair wasn't long enough but if any kid asked he'd simply say he was freshly regenerated from a flame thrower assault and his hair needed time to grow back fully. Three squirts later and he decided that it'd have to be good enough since anymore and he'd outdo Deadboy in the gel department. Once that was done he slid the three fake Cohiba cigars into the jacket before picking up the metal claws, getting a good grip on both before looking once more into the mirror. It took a moment before he found just the right way to hold them in order to make it look as though they were coming straight out between his fingers but result was favorable. It'd look better if he had some kind of gloves but he didn't have any of his own and neither did Tony, so he'd have to be satisfied with the way things were.

Walking out of his room, he made tracks to the front door, hoping to get out before Tony got back from whatever pity job he was currently working at. He'd stopped keeping track after the fifth one fell through and, to be perfectly honest, he didn't expect the current one to last for very much longer. It was just the way things went: Tony got the job out of pity, did a half-assed job for a couple months and then screw things up before getting fired. If Sunnydale had been a normal town he was certain that Tony would've been unemployed for almost ten years now. One of the unintentional 'benefits' of the Hellmouth, he supposed, was that local businesses always needed fresh employees and employers couldn't be too picky about who they hired. Of course once any employer got a better idea of whom they were dealing with in Tony Harris, they quickly came to believe that ANYONE would be better than him.

Out the door and on the sidewalk his eyes told him that he'd managed to get out just in the nick of time because, turning onto the street, looking a little wobbly, was Tony's car. Clearly the asshole had already started his routine of intoxication and was barely sober enough to operate a car without bringing every cop in Sunnydale down on his head to saddle him with a D.U.I. Getting behind the neighbor's fence, he crept away as quickly as he dared without drawing attention to himself, moving for a good ten minutes before standing up straight. Looking back in the general direction of his house, he hoped that the piece of shit that contributed half his DNA was unconscious when he got home later because God save him if Tony was still conscious. He'd learned long ago that he could do no right with that man so, even if he was dressed up as a badass, Tony wouldn't hesitate to verbally tear him apart. He'd either insult him for even trying to look like a badass or ridicule him for choosing to dress up as a comic book character, pointing out how he was too old for such things.

He honestly wondered if it was even possible for the man to be nice OR happy.

Throwing the bad feelings and memories out of his head, he started walking towards Buffy's place since he and the others had agreed that they'd all meet up there. From there they'd go to the school where Snyder would pair them up with a group of kids to chaperone around for two hours. It'd be interesting to see how Buffy and Willow looked in their costumes but he was even more interested to find out which 'volunteer' had gotten paired with which costume idea. When he'd been in Snyder's office he'd done his best to make sure that there'd be an even mix of male and female costumes so that he didn't wind up having to dress up like a girl. However the female costumes that he had put in were definitely the sort that he was interested in, finding out if they measured up to their fictional counterparts. Not everyone would look great in them, he was a perfect example of that, but hopefully enough pretty ladies had gotten roped into chaperone duty to give him some wonderful happy places to go to every time he was bored or upset.

A little under ten minutes later that he arrived at the Summers home and once he was in the front door he put one of the fake Cohibas into his mouth before knocking on the door. He heard the pitter-patter of feet almost immediately and, when the door opened, he was unsurprised to see young Dawn Summers standing there with a joyful smile on her face.

"Xander!" she exclaimed before latching onto him with the strongest hug she could manage.

"Hey, Dawn patrol!" he said, ruffling her hair while he smiled down at her.

"Cool costume! Wolverine right?" she asked before beginning to pull him inside the house.

Pushing the door closed behind him, he let her lead him where she wanted him to go and that turned out to be the living room couch, where she sat him down before plopping herself onto his lap.

"Yep. Herr Snyder roped me, your sister and Willow into chaperoning some kids around trick or treating for two hours. Then we'll be coming back here to watch some scary movies and eat tons of junk food!" he replied with a smile even as she leaned into his shoulder. "Think you can convince your mom to let you watch a couple?"

"You're forgetting who convinced her to finally stop buying me little girl clothes," Dawn said with a confident smile on her face. "I'll be there."

He had to admit that she had a point.

While he believed that all kids had a knack when it came to wrapping their parents around their little fingers, Dawn had talent above the average girl. There'd been more than a few times that he'd fallen victim to her convincing arguments but, thankfully, she made the mistake once too often of thinking she was older than she was. The second she tried to manipulate him like he'd seen Cordy manipulate one of the high school jocks, his internal moral systems kicked in, causing him to slam on the brakes. He knew she had a crush on him but that's all it was: a crush. She'd grow out of it as she got older and then she'd find some guy her own age to fall in love with, leaving him behind as nothing more than a good friend. He was willing to humor her because it was amusing and because it generally got stopped before it could get too far either by her family or by others.

Hearing the sound of someone coming down the stairs, he turned and beheld a sight that both struck him as beautiful as well as disgusting to a degree. Walking down towards him was Buffy completely decked out in her Belle costume, including a wig that gave her the right hair color since the animated film character was a brunette, not a blonde. She was honestly beautiful but the fact that she'd dressed up like that with the intention of making that vampire happy… he would never understood what she saw in that walking corpse. She kept going on and on about much she wanted a normal life with a husband, kids and a dog but nothing was normal about having a vampire with a soul for a boyfriend or potential husband.

"Looking pretty, Buff," he said, unable to make himself sound too pleased without sounding insincere.

"You too, Xan! A real tough guy!" Buffy said, sounding genuinely impressed but likely more focused on how impressed Deadboy would be when he saw her.

"Where's Willow?" he asked, wondering if his best bud had gotten there before him or if she was still on her way.

"She's upstairs adding a little something to make everything perfect," Buffy replied with a look on her face that spoke of a personal contribution.

"What'd you do?" he asked, almost afraid for his friend but not in a 'she might be in danger' way.

"Well, when she came over she was already pretty sexy looking but then she showed me a picture of Tony Stark," she replied, talking about it with mock casualness. "While it wouldn't look right to try and put a goatee on her or a mustache, we were able to do something about the hair. Mom had a phase, wanted to experiment with different hair colors, and there're a few bottles left over."

Before he could put the pieces together he heard another set of footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Buffy, I don't know if I should-" Willow said with some distraction as she came into view.

He couldn't stop his eyebrows from rising as he took in the ladies business suit now wrapped around his best bud's body and saw that instead of red hair she now had hair as black as a raven's feather. It was amazing how much of a change a new hair color could have on someone's appearance and new clothes only made the change greater. The only thing that didn't shock him was the fact that Willow had found a shirt to wear underneath the blazer and had chosen not to dress as Mister Rayne had proposed. Willow might have gotten more confident and a little bolder since Buffy entered their lives but it'd be a long time before she'd be able to bare that much of her chest off the beach.

When she saw that he was there she immediately looked uncomfortable and awkward, so he decided to defuse things as best he could: my making everyone laugh at him.

"So what do you think, Wills?" he asked with his usual lopsided smile before making his voice rougher and deeper. "Do I look like the best there is at what I do?"

He was trying to sound like the voice actor from the X-Men animated series but, judging from the way his best bud smiled, he hadn't quite succeeded.

"What you laughin' at, bub?" he asked, keeping his impersonation going.

This got things to go from giggles to outright laughter and caused the discomfort to mostly fade from Willow's face as well as brightening the mood of the others present.

 _Mission accomplished!_

 _ **Higher Plane of Existence**_

"This is a Des-Con Three alert. Repeat. This is a Destiny Condition Three alert," came the celestial voice through the air as the entire realm shook like a mortal earthquake.

"What is happening?" The Power of Destiny Commander asked from his position above his subordinates.

"We just had a moderate vibration in the destiny threads," his number one subordinate replied from amidst the working spirits. "As you no doubt felt, it is not from one of the minor threads."

"Whose threads did this disruption come from?" the PDC asked, sounding concerned by what he'd been told.

"Alexander Harris, Willow Rosenberg, Cordelia Chase and Harmony Kendall's threads are the ones most affected," the XO replied after a moment's consultation of the facts. "However the disruptions are having a resonating effect on all those connected to them. Already several key moments we have ordained for them have begun to fade and there are signs that their fated deaths are in danger of being rewritten by chance rather than by us."

This was not good.

The lives of mortals were more interconnected than they realized and to change one person's fate was to cause a ripple effect that would take centuries to fully disappear on its own. It would lead to chaos at a time when order was needed more than anything else. The PDC knew how some mortals, particularly those chosen to be champions and especially those chosen to be Slayers, viewed beings like him. They thought him and his brethren cruel and callous entities that cared not for the suffering their machinations caused in the name of the great Balance. They thought that all that mattered to them was the end result and not the number of mortal lives that were sacrificed to bring about that end.

They could not be further from the truth.

To he and his fellow Powers, nothing was more important than the lives of the mortals that had been placed under their protection by the Creator. They wept each time a mortal perished at the hands of an agent of the infernal darkness and doubled their efforts each time to ensure that it would not happen again. They did not place importance on their plans out of some overinflated pride or malicious selfishness, but rather because they saved the most amount of lives in the long run. It took painstaking work to take into account billions of lives, map their potential futures and then construct a plan that minimized the costs while maximizing the gains. The PDC was, in fact, one of the Powers that argued most passionately in favor of doing all they could to keep the number of mortals that had to die to a minimum. He had his opponents, of course, those that saw mortals as mayflies, but they were not the dominant faction amongst them so their influence did not reach far.

The mortals.

Their lifespan measured a century at the absolute most and so that was all that mattered to them, even if some were willing to give their all for future generations. It was why it was so hard for them to accept their place in the plans of the Powers: it was nearly impossible for them to comprehend the big picture. To them the future was an abstract thing that they could try to plan for but never truly see in the same way the Powers could. As a result, when they tried to communicate to the mortals the necessity of their plans, some dutifully accepted their words but most rejected the words and eventually rejected the Powers as well. From a mortal point of view this was understandable and from the point of view of the Powers it was a necessary evil if the Balance was to be maintained.

Sometimes one must play the villain in order to for the right thing to be done.

"Determine the cause of the vibrations," the PDC ordered as another tremor shook the realm. "Perhaps the situation can still be salvaged."

It took both a day and a second to get the necessary information.

"Lord Janus is fueling a mortal's spell to change those wearing enchanted costumes into whatever or whoever they were pretending to be. It is what Harris, Rosenberg, Chase and Kendall have turned into that is causing their threads to vibrate," the XO explained, sounding confused by the information. "What is odd about this is that this spell has been cast many times in the past and has never caused vibrations such as this. In all previous cases, those changed physically returned to normal immediately upon the spell's termination and any lingering mental traces faded over the course of several days."

The PDC pondered this for a moment but the answer came to him swifter than expected.

"Alexander Harris. He must be responsible for this," the PDC declared with growing certainty. "The same thing that allowed him to retain a trace of the primal possession and break our prophecy for Slayer Summers must somehow be influencing the spell being powered by Janus. If each of the affected were for some reason to retain some significant aspect of their costumes, it would drastically alter their threads as well as all those connected to them. Prepare for immediate thread expulsion!"

"Sir! Are you certain?!" the XO asked in shock at the order she had been given. "Threads that are expelled from the tapestry face almost certain nullification of their existence. The changes to connected threads will be substantial!"

"But far less than what will occur if we do nothing," the PDC replied, pained but still resolute. "Even if we force the termination of the spell now, the changes are already present. If we attempt to undo the changes later, the results of mixing other magic with chaos magic could very well make matters worse. If the tree is to be preserved, some branches must be sacrificed. Now do it!"

"Aye sir!" the XO said with reluctant compliance. "Prepare for the expulsion of the four threads!"

As the spirits that served him went about the task, the PDC could only close his metaphorical eyes in remorse for what was about to happen. It had affirmed everything the PDC believed with regards to mortals when Harris and Rosenberg chose of their own free will to aid Slayer Summers with her Calling. They did not have to and some might argue it would have been safer for them to remain ignorant of the truth about their hometown. Nevertheless they braved the darkness and the evils it spawned, growing into people who might well become worthy of champion status themselves one day. For Cordelia Chase and Harmony Kendall, they too possessed potential, if not quite as impressive, but sadly they would now be unable to reach it.

Even though there existed a chance that their threads might somehow escape nullification, not even the PDC knew the conditions that needed to be met to make it so.

So, just as chance had caused the current situation, so too was chance the only thing standing in the way of the quartet's nullification.

"Preparations complete, sir," the XO said with emotions that mirrored his own.

"Initiate," the PDC ordered in a manner akin to a C.O. ordering a chopper to lift off even while some of his men struggled desperately to reach it even though it was futile.

With a single quake that shook the realm, four threads of destiny were expelled from the tapestry and all waited with anticipation to see if this would end the crisis. Time both long and almost nonexistent went by but then, bit by bit, the information came in confirming that the PDC had made the correct decision from an objective point of view. While there would still be some disruption of the plans of the Powers, it would require only minimal effort on their part to ensure things occurred as was necessary for the Balance to be maintained. The subordinates rejoiced at a job well done and a crisis averted but neither the XO nor the PDC joined them. For those two it felt more like they had lost for, in failing to foresee the actions of the mortal man Janus had aided, they had most likely consigned four souls to nullification.

Four souls that the Creator had charged them with protecting.

'Never again' was the thought that echoed through both of their minds.

It was a worthy promise indeed.

 _ **In the Middle of Nowhere, Parts Unknown, Xander's POV**_

"AAAAHHHHH!" he screamed as he fell from high above a canopy of trees with no way to stop his descent and little in the way of comprehension concerning how he'd gotten into his current predicament.

The last thing he could remember clearly was taking a group of elementary kids around the residential area of Sunnydale and having about twenty-five minutes to go before he'd have to steer them back towards the high school. The preteens had been suitably impressed by his costume, with one annoying exception that wouldn't shut up, and, much like Buffy had told him and Willow, the streets were demon free. No vamps, nothing with horns or sharp teeth, or anything else that he'd expected to be itching for a chance to bite into some unsuspecting kids. It was a little odd but he certainly wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth because he didn't like the odds of the Scoobies being able to keep every preteen safe amidst some slayage.

It'd been then that a wind had blown in out of nowhere and it'd been odd enough to catch his attention but, before he'd had the chance to think on it much, his mind got sent into a tailspin. A maelstrom of pain and near overwhelming sensory information knocked him for a loop, leaving him off balance when the other shoe dropped.

He was no longer in control of his own body.

He still had access to his five senses, BOY did he have access to them, but no matter what he tried to do he couldn't make anything from his eyelids to his arms to his mouth do what he wanted. Despite some rather obvious signs to the contrary, it wasn't until Willow had walked up to his body a few minutes later that he figured out at least part of what'd been going on. Somehow a mind consistent with whomever or whatever they'd dressed up as had been given control over their bodies, with the original owners locked in as spectators. That'd gotten him a little worried since not only was his body nowhere near as chiseled as Wolverine's was depicted as being in the comics, but he didn't possess the hero's nigh unstoppable healing factor. He'd been worried that Logan would overestimate the body he inhabited, get into a fight he couldn't get out of and wind up impaled for his recklessness.

Not a real problem for the real Wolverine but for one Xander Harris possessing nothing more than a normal human body, it'd almost certainly be fatal.

The situation was proven to be a great deal more serious than he'd originally thought when, after facing a horde of jocks dressed as pirates, one of them managed to score a lucky slash on his arm. He'd banged against the mental walls that kept him locked away, yelled to get the cut stitched and bandaged, but then the wound healed completely in a matter of seconds. That was all he'd needed to see in order to accept that the changes made to him extended beyond a fake mind gaining control of his body. It was after the pirates hurt Buffy, her fake personality not a coward but helpless in a fight, that he'd gotten his second bit of proof that he'd been changed when three twelve inch metal claws popped out of each clenched fist.

The fight didn't last more than half a minute after that.

If he'd been in control of his body he'd have thrown up but he wasn't and, while he'd been able to sense that the Logan mind took no pleasure in what he'd done, he did believe it'd been necessary.

Before anything more could happen the world twisted and then shattered, playing havoc with his perceptions and whatever had started the craziness of the night. It proved too much and he'd lost consciousness, hoping that when he woke up he'd either be back to his old self or everything'd turn out to be a dream.

As of about twenty seconds ago it turned out that the former hope was the right one but he was seriously wishing it'd been the other one because at least then he wouldn't be falling from almost certainly lethal heights. Instinctively bracing himself, he slammed into the trees mere seconds later, with branch after branch knocking the wind out of him as well turning him into a living pinball. He wasn't sure how many times he bounced off branches but eventually he landed on the ground with a thud that left him gasping for air. For a time he simply laid there, waiting for his breathing to return to normal, but when he recovered quicker than he'd ever anticipated he suspected something he needed to prove before going any further.

Getting to his feet, he brought his right hand up, made a fist and let instinct guide him in performing the act he desired.

SNIKT!

A triad of pain blossomed between the fingers of his right hand as three razor sharp blades a foot long shot out from his flesh. With familiarity that he knew wasn't his own a past statement became painfully true: it really did hurt every single time. Doing the same thing with his other hand, he looked at the metal implements and, taking into account that there wasn't a single broken bone in his body, there was only one conclusion.

He still had the physical characteristics of Wolverine aka Logan.

Taking a sniff of the air he was almost overwhelmed by the variety of scents he could detect, making him wonder how his comic book hero could make any sense of it. Practice and discipline, he presumed, but until he had anything that came close he'd make it his business to breath only through his mouth. Depending on what he found out in the next few minutes, he'd probably wind up finding time to gain at least some proficiency in making sense of what his nose told him. If it came even close to how it was depicted in the comic books, it'd be an excellent early warning system for either food or potential threats.

Looking around, he tried to figure out where he was, how he'd come to be here and where he should go now that he was physically capable of moving. He knew magic was involved because there was no other possible way for him to suddenly have the body, the Adamantium bones or the claws of a fictional character. He also felt it was a safe bet that magic was responsible for making him appear high above the tree canopy, but that didn't necessarily mean that the two were connected. It was entirely possible that two separate people cast two separate spells on him but there was a good chance that one precipitated the second but damned if he could figure out any more.

Did someone cast a spell to get rid of him, resulting in his arrival here? If so then why did they want to get rid of him? Was it because they knew he'd retain Wolverine's physical characteristics?

Even if that was the case, though, he couldn't see how becoming a pseudo-Wolverine would change things for anyone other than the forces of evil. Had some demon or warlock been behind his unexpected relocation? If so he was going to have words with the bastard when he got back and, if he still had Wolverine's claws, then he would give that person a trip to claw city that they'd never forget. If there existed a good reason for relocating him, like an end of the world or end of Sunnydale situation, then maybe he'd be a little more understanding. He certainly wasn't going to bitch about being sent on an unscheduled trip if the alternative was the Hellmouth opening or some obscure ritual being set into motion.

Still, it would've been nice to have been given the lowdown before being shoved on his flight.

 _Enough griping!_ He shook his head. _Time to see what I've got to work with and what my best chance for figuring out where the hell I am is._

Looking himself over, he was glad to see that his clothes had survived the fall more or less intact with only a few small rips and tears to be had. Hand them over to any decent tailor and they'd be sewn up or patched within a day. Not that he was that concerned with how he looked at the moment that he'd make visiting a tailor a priority but it was nice that he wouldn't look like a bum if he hit civilization. Reaching into his pocket, he found that all but one of the Cohiba cigars had been broken in half by the fall, making him frown in disappointment.

Strange, considering he'd never before smoked a cigarette before, much less a cigar.

A leftover from Logan? Maybe.

A further search of his pockets didn't reveal anything too worthy of note and certainly nothing that'd help him survive in the wilderness. He hadn't exactly been expecting an impromptu camping trip when he'd left his house so that left him lacking more than a few things that are essential to surviving in the wild. Protecting himself from any wild animals or hunting them for foot wouldn't be a problem thanks to his claws but he'd prefer to get to a town or city rather than sleeping in the woods. Not that he had any idea where he was in relation to the nearest town or city, so he decided that that would be the first on his list of things to do. Find a high point in the area and get the lay of the land so that he could figure out which way to start walking rather than let random chance decide.

Closing his eyes, he tried to get a feel for which direction was uphill and which was downhill but, once that was determined, he started going up. He wasn't sure how long it'd take to get to someplace high but he wasn't hungry and, with Wolverine's powers, it'd be awhile before hunger started to become a problem.

 _This was SO not how I wanted my Halloween to go,_ he thought, focusing on his objective rather than something that couldn't be changed.

 _ **Hours Later**_

 _About flamin' time!_ he thought grumpily as he reached a ledge in the side of a mountain he'd reached that'd allow him to see the entire area with ease. _Thought I'd have to camp out for the night before getting here._

He'd been moving at a fairly good pace but, despite his best efforts, he wasn't getting the altitude he wanted quickly enough and so he'd broken into a run in order to increase his progress. Still it'd been a near thing to reach the ledge he'd spotted through the branches of the surrounding trees before the sun went down and he wasn't about to waste the opportunity before him. Now that he was there, though, it was time for him to get a look at the landscape and hopefully spot a town, village or city within a reasonable walking distance of his current position.

Standing up, he cast his gaze across the entire area looking for any buildings or manmade structures that gave him a hint at civilization. With the sun setting the shadows were long and they obscured certain areas but the senses he'd inherited from his costume allowed him to see into them well enough. From what he could see the area was almost nothing but wilderness except for what looked to be buildings a fair ways to the north. They were oddly shaped but he couldn't quite make them out so there was no way of knowing really where in the world he was except that it had trees and mountains.

Needle? Meet haystack.

Still, it was better than what he had when he first landed wherever he was, so with a destination in mind that would hopefully give him the means to get to a major city and its associated airport he prepared to climb back down to solid ground.

 _Wait a minute,_ he thought as an idea came to him that'd speed things up a bit. _What if I… it works in the comics as well as some of the cartoons, so… what the hell. If it doesn't work I'll still survive the fall, even if it'll hurt like a sonuvabitch._

Popping the claws in both arms, he turned to face the back of the ledge and then, with a deep breath to calm his nerves, he hopped backwards while thrusting both fists forward seconds later. The idea was that he could use gravity to pull him down to the bottom while using the metal claws to slow his descent to a reasonable level by partially putting them into the rock. He'd seen Wolverine do something similar in the comics and in the cartoons, so he figured it'd be worth trying out himself since it'd save him time.

You'd think he'd have learned after having the truth about Sunnydale revealed to him that television and comic books were BIG FAT LIARS!

Sure, it seemed to work for a bit but, even when he did his best to keep the traction between his feet and the rock to a minimum, he wound up slowing to a stop after only a dozen feet or so. Either he'd made a mistake with the depth he'd plunged his blades or his two favorite methods of passing the time had lied to him. With a sigh he began his downward climb, using his claws instead of his fingers for the job, figuring he might as well get some practice in with the deadly implements. There were a few times when his feet slipped or the foothold he'd chosen gave way under his increased weight but, thanks to his claws, he didn't fall very far.

 _This is gonna take some getting used to,_ he thought once he finally reached the ground. _Assuming, of course, Giles can't figure out a way to get me back to normal that is._

Don't get him wrong: he would love to keep the powers since they'd allow him to help out the gang a lot better than his old self could. However he'd heard Giles lecture enough about the costs of magic to know that to get and keep an upgrade like this, there had to be a pretty hefty bill waiting in the wings. Would it be his soul? Would the Wolverine powers slowly erode his soul away until he just up and died someday? Or would his mind snap, causing him to go all berserker rage on his friends? There was just no way for him to know but that was the direction he saw the 'cost' going if he kept his new upgrades for too long.

Nothing was worth losing his friends over.

Retracting his shiny claws back into his forearms, he winced a bit at the pain but it soon went away as the warm sensation that he'd come to associate with the healing factor knitted his flesh back together. It was a little creepy but he was getting used to it every time he utilized the claws or got a scrape going through some bushes. It was very different than how it'd been for him before when he was on the outside looking in via comics and cartoons. In both it looked like popping the claws was no more difficult for the canucklehead than twiddling your thumbs but in fact it was more akin to putting out lit matches by squishing them between his fingers. Both popping them out and then popping them back in felt that way and it kinda made him imagine someone watching a recording of it and messing around with both the rewind button as well as the fast forward button.

He didn't even want to THINK about how it'd probably feel if he got a more serious injury because a healing factor didn't include a pain elimination factor. He'd feel every injury he received and he'd feel his body knit itself back together with excruciating thoroughness and speed. Wolverine had suffered just about every major battle-related injury known to mankind and managed to come back from each of them but not without suffering some serious pain. He had no desire to find out what that was like on his way back home so, no matter what happened until he set foot back in Sunnydale, he'd steer clear of trouble. If for some reason that wasn't possible he'd keep his claws sheathed and try to end the fight quickly so that no one who witnessed it would have time to suspect something was unusual about him.

If he couldn't end the fight quickly then someone, either the ones he was fighting or the ones he was saving, would suspect the truth, with the more hostile ones upping the level of violence accordingly.

Down that path much pain waited.

 _Knowing me, though, all it'll take is some damsel in distress to get me to dive head first or some bastard happily tap dancing across every single one of my lines,_ he thought with an annoyed grimace. _Here's hoping that wherever I am they're as into denial as the residents of Sunnyhell are._

He knew he was probably hoping for too much with that but he found it easier to think that way then accept the more realistic probability of him becoming an overnight media sensation. 'Wolverine is real' would be the headline in whatever language the country he was in used and, unless he was very lucky, the authorities would probably post men at every airport, train station and dock trying to get him. After all, who wouldn't want to know more about a real life comic book character that they could experiment on and try to copy the powers from? Well, he, for one, had no intention of being anyone's lab rat no matter what sort of justifications they threw at him, so if they tried he'd do whatever it took to remain free.

If that meant slicing his way through a couple dozen people to reach freedom… he wouldn't like it and probably have nightmares like no one's business, but he'd do it.

Walking along he quickly found himself bored with nothing but vegetation and the odd bird tweeting making him try to think up anything to occupy his mind for the duration of the walk. He thought about Willow and wondered if she'd gotten displaced to some far off country like he had but figured that even if that was the case she had the Iron Man… Iron Woman armor, so she'd be fine. Hell, she'd probably get home before he did seeing as how the armor probably still worked and could fly at supersonic speeds, so there'd be no need to worry about her.

The only person he was concerned about getting home after being repositioned elsewhere on the globe was Buffy, since the Slayer's options would be somewhat limited. His friend wouldn't be able to call home for the money needed for a plane ticket so that only left Giles, but even if that worked it'd mean several hours she'd have to come up with an excuse to tell her mother. Sure, if it was only a couple of hours it could be explained away as staying at Willow's for the night, but anything more than twelve hours would be a little harder to work with.

 _Maybe I should think up a couple to give her next time I see here,_ he thought as he continued in the direction of the buildings he'd seen. _It'd give me something to think about and it'd help Buff stay out of trouble with Missus S._

Thus for the next few hours he used his imagination to come up with excuse after excuse that could explain a longer than overnight absence to the boss lady of the Summers household.

He tossed out the 'kidnapped by Armenians' one right off the bat.


	2. Definitely not in the brochure

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the copyrighted materials contained herein. They are the rightful property of their creators and/or associated companies. I make no profit from this whatsoever and I have no intention of changing this at any point in the future. I write because it's fun and because there are those who enjoy reading my stories. Therefore I would appreciate it if no one took legal action against me. I'm not rich by any measure and can barely afford rent on a modest apartment. There's no way whatever you got from me would cover even an seventh of your legal fees.

 _ **Early Morning**_

 _I don't know what the hell lives in these forests but I wished they'd just attack me instead of skittering around where I can't see them,_ he thought grumpily as he walked down the dirt path he'd found an hour ago. _It's freaky as hell trying to think when I can hear every little movement._

Animal keen senses were all good when it helped him make out where he was walking with only moonlight and starlight to provide illumination but, when he could hear things like they were happening right next to him, it got very annoying. It was like trying to get some sleep but to be kept from doing so because you can hear squirrels holding track and field competitions on the roof of your house. He'd tried a few times to chase after the little noise makers but, with so much in the way of vegetation for them to hide under and the animal instinct to freeze in order to evade predators, he soon gave up. As annoying as it was, he had better things to do then chase after woodland animals just because they were bothering him.

 _Shouldn't be much further,_ he thought as he noticed fresher footprints in the dirt. _If they're still using dirt roads around here instead of paved ones, it probably means I'm pretty far from civilization. Still, if I can get directions and maybe a lift on a carriage to someplace more modern, it'll still be worth the walk._

It was a minute later that he made it far enough up the hill he'd been walking up that he could get his first glimpse of what lay beyond it.

 _Huh. Japan,_ he thought as he looked at the oriental architecture of the buildings that he'd only ever seen at a distance before. _Of all the places I thought I'd been dropped, this was only number three._

He couldn't help but grin a bit since it'd been one of the places he'd considered going for his post high school road trip thanks to his love of anime as well as manga. True, he was penniless and would probably need to call collect back home so Giles could loan him enough yen for a plane ticket home, but still he'd be able to take a good look around just the same. With a bit of luck he'd be able to scout out a few cool places he could visit in more detail after he graduated from high school, thus saving him some trouble in the future.

When he finally entered the village, he immediately attracted attention but, considering he was both Caucasian and dressed distinctly different from the locals, this was to be expected. Looking about, he found that the town citizens were dressed in clothes that would be right at home in one of those late eighteen hundred, early nineteen hundreds period martial arts flicks. Casually looking about, he couldn't see any cameras or signs of a film crew, so he felt confident that he hadn't walked onto some movie set without realizing it. He must've been REALLY out in the sticks in Japan for them to be this far behind modern fashion, but since he'd never heard of a village that Japan forgot existing, he wasn't discouraged. Someone had to know where the land of concrete and automobiles could be found so he'd just have to ask around and get some directions.

It was as he thought that though that he recalled one important fact that he'd somehow managed to overlook.

He didn't know how to speak Japanese aside from a few words or phrases he learned from subbed anime shows.

Somehow he doubted he'd get very far with that limited vocabulary.

 _C'mon, Xan!_ he thought as he tried to keep himself optimistic. _There's gotta be at least one person in this entire village who understands enough English to understand when you ask for directions to Tokyo._

Looking for a possible source of information, he spotted a man with the first signs of grey hairs working what looked to be some kind of knick-knack booth and figured he'd do. Walking up and trying not to look disrespectful or anything, he pretended to look at a few of the things being sold, one of a kind designs if he was any judge, before speaking using plain non-slang words. The simpler he kept his words the less chance that there'd be misinterpretation and the better his odds would be of getting the right information.

"Hello. Do you know which way to go to get to Tokyo?" he asked with his lopsided smile on his face.

"Tokyo? Where's that?" the older man asked, clearly familiar with speaking English given the minimal accent being used.

 _He doesn't know where Tokyo is?_ He felt a bit puzzled. _I'm pretty sure this is Japan but I guess it could be China. Don't know enough to know of any differences between the two. Maybe try something different._

"What about the capital? Can you tell me which direction it's in from here?" he asked, figuring any capital city, Chinese or Japanese, would have an airport he could use.

"Oh! You're a ways away from here, stranger," the older man replied, finally looking like he understood. "A good five day walk from here at least."

"Any chance I could catch a ride with someone heading that way?" he asked, preferring it if he could shorten the journey as much as possible.

"Hmmmm… Li Mann should be heading that way in a few hours," the older man replied after a moment's consideration. "If you wait by the northern village path, you should have no trouble finding him."

"Thanks! I'll do that," he said with a smile and what he hoped was a passable bow of respect. "Have a good day."

"You as well, stranger," the older man said, returning the bow.

With that he made his way further into and closer to the northern part of the village, where he'd find the path he needed. As he walked he continued to take in the locals as well as their village, if for no other reason than to see firsthand what before he'd only seen in movies. From what he could see the place didn't have even a lightbulb's worth of electricity, meaning that they likely did everything the old fashioned way. It was like he was in a Japanese Amish village or something. Not that he had anything against people who chose to live that way but it had to be rough and, if they rejected modern medicine along with every other piece of modern tech, lives had to be shorter. Still, he supposed if they didn't live as long as the people in the big city did, then it just meant that they used what time they did have wisely and cherished every day.

It was a good way to live no matter where it was in his opinion.

It didn't take him long to find the northern path as well as the red painted arch placed over it, so with no better ideas he leaned up against the arch to await a guy with a carriage or a set of horses. Hopefully it'd be a carriage or cart or something because, considering how much heavier he probably was at the moment, probably around three hundred pounds or so, it'd be too much for a single horse to carry very easily, if at all. Better for him to get into a carriage or a cart that hopefully was built sturdily enough to carry him all the way, or at the very least part of the way, to the capital. Any time that could be cut off the trip would be great since it'd be less time for the Scoobies to worry about him and less time Snyder could use against him to assign detention.

As he leaned against the archway, he let his gaze wander to whatever seemed interesting at the time as he waited for his ride to arrive. Sometimes it was a person walking by on some early morning task while other times it was a pet dog that trotted on by, only giving him a momentary look before proceeding on its way. He was a little surprised that that the dog hadn't gotten defensive and bared its teeth at him but then he recalled in the comic books that animals tended to do one of two things in Wolverine's presence.

Either they accepted him as one of their own, a fellow wild animal, or they challenged him and, depending on how merciful Logan was feeling, they'd either be sent running with their tail between their legs or they'd be dead. In this case the dog had either not considered him a threat to its territory or saw it as a fellow animal needing no more than to be acknowledged before moving on. It was interesting but not enough to hold his attention for very long.

It was a little under two hours later when he was about to think about just walking the entire way, regardless of how much time he'd lose, that a man sitting on a cart being pulled by two horses came into view. While there were numerous roads between where this man was and the northern village path, he felt confident that he was looking at Li Mann. His confidence was rewarded soon as the horse draw cart turned towards him with no other possible destination being possible.

"Li Mann?" he asked, hoping this guy understood English even if he couldn't speak it.

"Yes?" Li Mann asked with mild curiosity as he brought his cart to a stop.

"I was told you're heading in the direction of the capitol," he replied with a grin. "Could I catch a ride? I can walk if it'd be too much trouble for you but it'd be a big help."

"Well, I'm not goin' all the way to the capitol," Li Mann said, sounding a little uncertain. "You'd still have about two days of walkin' to do. If you're okay with that then sure, I can give you a ride until then."

"Thanks! I appreciate it," he said as his grin turned into his lopsided smile.

Carefully getting into the cart so as not to accidentally snap the wooden boards or upend it entirely, he did his best to get comfortable for the ride.

 _Here's hoping my butt doesn't fall asleep,_ he thought as Li Mann snapped the reins to get the horses moving again.

 _ **Three Days Later**_

"See you around, Li!" he said, somewhat forcing a smile on his face as he waved at the man on the cart riding away.

"Same to you, Xander!" Li Mann said, sounding genuinely happy with the company he'd had for the last three days.

 _NEVER have I been so glad to be alone in all my LIFE!_ he thought once he was facing away from Li Mann, a look of supreme irritation on his face.

Don't get him wrong, the guy was good for letting him hitch a ride this far and the man had even shared some of his food when they set up camp for the night. It'd been pretty good even if it was a little fresher than a city boy like him usually got from the local grocery store. Like 'just recently hunted down and skinned' fresh, but it'd still tasted well enough after being cooked over an open fire so it wasn't all that bad. No, the thing that had him glad that Li Mann was getting further and further away from him was the fact that the man was an INSANE chatterbox that only ever shut up when he was too tired to move his mouth.

Not one minute after they'd left the village the man had started talking about anything, EVERYTHING, and would pester him to say something if he remained too silent. He did his best to keep his answers brief and to the point, with meaningless filler to make up for what he couldn't say, but the guy had an uncanny knack for seeing through such. Therefore it'd been a small kind of hell trying to keep the secrets he needed to keep while also time providing satisfactory answers to any inquiries sent his way.

Still, it hadn't been a total waste since he'd learned quite a bit about where he'd landed.

However with places like Fort Tamblin, Da Chao Mountain and the like, he had to wonder just how far out in the boonies he really was. Sure, he hadn't done all that much research on either Japan or China, so it was entirely possible that they were just better known to the locals than they were internationally. Still he couldn't shake this annoying itch at the back of his brain that indicated that there was something familiar about the name of the mountain. He was SURE that he'd heard of it someplace before but he couldn't quite make everything click in his mind. It had to have been something he'd heard or read or saw in the last couple of months because, just like Willow always chastised him about, he tended to forget certain things after a few months. Where her mind was like a sponge, his was more like a towel that could only soak up so much and after that the excess info just dripped off of him to the floor. That wasn't a problem if it was the right knowledge but he had school stuff he had to learn, what chores needed to be done at home, his various interests or hobbies and, as of a little over a year ago, stuff on demons to beat into his brain.

It was pretty much first come, first serve as far as what got absorbed, with any new stuff having a better chance of being retained if it was something he needed to remember every day.

So whatever Da Chao Mountain was that was familiar to him, it had to have been something recent but not something he needed to know about every single day. He'd thought about it off and on since he'd first heard the name but he was no closer to figuring out where he'd heard it than before, so with a sigh he just gave up. It wasn't necessary to what he needed in order to get back so he'd shelf it for the time being and maybe once he was back home he'd look it up online or ask Willow about it.

Tying his biker jacket around his waist he began the last two day leg of his journey towards the capitol city where he'd find civilization and a phone. Looking left and then right, he had to admit that he was a bit puzzled as to why he hadn't seen any highways or power lines since, if he was two days away from the capitol city, you'd expect there to be some. Indeed, in terms of technology level things hadn't gotten any more modern than the village he'd originally visited. It made him think that it was more likely he was in China rather than Japan since one of the things he clearly recalled hearing was that the latter was pretty densely populated. With limited space and tons of people, there wouldn't be a whole lot of forested areas or places where modern technology hadn't reached. If he'd been in Japan, he should've seen something by now but he hadn't, so he could only conclude that he was in China. The country was a great deal larger than Japan, meaning it'd mesh a lot better with the idea of him being in an area that still clung to the old ways of doing things.

Before he could think more on the matter, though, a sound reached his ears that put him on alert even as he kept himself from freezing up or interrupting the tempo of his steps. It wasn't too obvious and, if he didn't have Wolverine's enhanced senses, he probably wouldn't have picked up on it, but he definitely heard the sound of branches snapping in seven different places. Not tree branches but rather bush branches as well as whatever broken tree branches that lay on the ground for one reason or another. Focusing for a moment, he tried to see if his ears could perceive more he picked up the sounds of people breathing but doing so in a way that'd make it hard for normal people to hear them.

 _How do I know what that's supposed to sound like?_ he thought with a bit of a start since he couldn't recall a single moment in Sunnydale when he studied such things well enough to know them.

He wasn't given any time to figure that out, sadly, since his startled expression must've made his hidden guests think that he'd spotted them. All at once they came out of the surrounding vegetation; they looked like a pretty rag-tag bunch, clad in loose brown pants and random pieces of what looked to be actual metal armor, but what struck him as really odd was the weapon each of them wielded. At first glance they reminded him of those Japanese spear weapons with the big blades at the end… naginatas he believed they were called, but they had gun barrel's attached to them, along with a pistol grip and trigger at the midway point of the spear shaft. Never once in all the martial arts or period movies from Asia had he ever seen anyone using a weapon like it and definitely not in modern times. Bandits, at least he was assuming these guys were bandits, usually preferred guns when they wanted to rob someone, and those that had to resort to blades were usually quite poor.

Bandits that got inventive and tried to combine the two like this… this had to be a first.

Lucky him?

"Give us all your money, foreigner! NOW!" ordered a man who looked to be the most respectably dressed and professional of the lot.

"Sorry, pal, but all I have is the clothes on my back and a cigar," he said, keeping his hands up in a 'let us talk' position. "And before you ask, I'm not giving up my clothes."

"Then maybe we'll take them off your cold, dead corpse," the Bandit Leader said with a bit of irritation at the slim pickings. "We should be able to get a few hundred gil for the lot of them."

 _Gil? Not yen or yuan?_ he thought, wondering where he'd heard the currency name before and why they'd want it instead of official country currency.

Now the itch in the back of his head, the one screaming at him that he should recognize what was going on, had doubled but the truth was still at the tip of his tongue. Whatever it was, he was beginning to realize that all of the possible places he'd thought he'd touched down in were not likely to be the case. That did not bode well for him being able to get home since, the less he knew about the country, the more likely he'd make a mistake of some kind.

 _First things first,_ he thought as the seven bandits inched closer to strike him down.

"Now I really think you should rethink things, bub," he said, unconsciously using some of Logan's vocabulary. "I don't know what reasons you've got for robbing people, maybe they're good reasons and maybe they're not, but you try and take what's mine and I guarantee you're going to regret it."

"We'll see about that, 'bub'! Kill'em!" the Bandit Leader ordered, pointing at him with his weird naginata-gun weapon.

Bringing up his hands as fists but not popping his claws, he prepared to fight the bandits off and hopefully convince them to go look for easier prey rather than keep trying to take him down. With Wolverine's healing factor he'd be able to take just about anything they sent his way but it'd also make him decidedly more memorable in their minds and he didn't want that. He just wanted to fly under the radar of everyone important, get to an airport and then fly home to resume his normal-yet-not-normal life in Sunnydale. With that in mind he decided the quickest way to get the bandits to turn tail was to take down their leader since, in groups like this, it was the strongest or most deadly bandit that gave the orders.

How he was going to get to the guy without being skewered, thus exposing his healing factor, he didn't know because nothing he'd ever used against vamps or demons applied here. Vamps and demons either used their fists or their claws to fight with the level of skill used being the only variable of note. These guys looked like they knew how to use their weapons well and that either meant a lot of experience in real fights or they'd received training from a professional.

He just might be in a bit of trouble.

"DIE!" yelled one bandit, who lunged forward with a thrust.

Then out of nowhere his body moved almost like it was on some kind of autopilot, shifting its weight to avoid the thrust attack while his left hand went for the attacker's left eye, attempting to gouge it out. His right hand was not idle during this time; it got a grip on the naginata-gun weapon and successfully managed to pull it from the bandit's grasp. Then, just to really shock him further, he ceased attempting to gouge out the eye and twirled the weapon so that the blade at the end was pointed at its former owner before finding its trigger and pulling it. A burst of four shots erupted from the barrel, with orange flames slamming into the bandit. While some hit metal armor, at least two shots succeeded in piercing flesh.

From there on it was a whirlwind of action, with his enemies attacking and his body deciding that near autopilot was better than letting him consciously decide what to do from moment to moment.

In the end though this proved to be the right decision since it allowed him to take down four of the bandits over the course of several minutes, leaving only the leader plus two of his subordinates, neither of which looked eager to get closer to him.

"You're gonna pay for that, outsider!" the Bandit Leader growled, clearly displeased with the current state of things. "SHOOT HIM!"

Knowing that the cat would be out of the bag if they shot him he charged towards them, yelling as fearsomely and perhaps as animalistically as he could to intimidate them and cause them to hesitate. This proved to be effective because, by the time they finished bringing their weapons up to fire, he was already within range, so with a baseball swing he got ambitious and tried to take all of them out at once with the blade. The one furthest to the right he managed to slice successfully across the stomach, the bandit leader he only got a light cut in the man's side due to a last minute deflection of the blade and the guy furthest to the left dropped his weapon, falling on his ass in an effort to evade the attack. What followed was a quick exchange of close quarter attacks, using a weapon that was designed to be used at mid-range, before he chose to end it with a kick to the family jewels. Unexpected and probably considered dishonorable, it landed perfectly, earning a squeak from the bandit leader before the guy dropped to the ground in pain.

 _Hated to do that to the guy. Probably hurt all the more with Adamantium wrapped around my bones,_ he thought with a bit of a sympathy wince. _Still, it was the quickest way to end this before my little secret came out._

Looking at the bandits scattered about, he could tell just by what he could see and hear that they were scared of him and that made sense. Most people who robbed others for a living did so because they were cowards or were greedy and didn't want to earn a living the lawful way. Those kind of people quickly chickened out if a big enough dog popped up and, thanks to his muscles remembering things he didn't consciously know, he'd proven just how big a dog he was.

"Now I'm pretty sure I told you guys you'd regret trying to take what's mine," he said, trying to sound as confident and intimidating as possible. "Be glad you didn't catch me on a bad day or else none of you'd be leaving here alive. Now get the hell out of here and don't let me catch you pulling this kind of shit again! GO!"

With that the subordinate that'd dropped his weapon and fallen on his ass got to his feet and helped his leader do the same before they both moved as quickly as they could into the forest. He could hear the others who were able do the same with those who were a little worse for wear being helped as best they could without further aggravating their injuries. This was better than he'd thought since he'd been expecting the bandits to pull an 'every man for himself' routine, leaving their comrades to fend for themselves. Were they actually soldiers pretending to be bandits? He supposed that if there were targets that the local military couldn't officially attack without repercussions then the next logical course of action would be to arrange an 'attack by bandits' to get the job done. Still, he couldn't think of an enemy a country would fear that he resembled enough to be considered a viable target other than the stereotypical 'American dog'.

 _Whatever! I fought them off somehow and they're running back home with their tails between their legs,_ he thought, shaking his head to get rid of the useless speculation. _With any luck they'll spread the word that I'm not an easy target and it'll be smooth sailing from here on out._

Dropping the weapon he'd BORROWED from one of the bandits to the ground, he resumed his walk down the dirt road in the hopes of reaching civilization soon so he could go home.

Only this time his travel thoughts were centered more on how he'd just managed to overcome seven armed bandits without a single scrape to show for it.

 _ **Two Days Later**_

"This… is the capitol?" he whispered as he looked at the sight laid out before him.

It had to be.

He'd been walking for two days and that was how long he'd been told it'd take to get to the capitol and he'd checked with Li Mann the day before they'd parted ways to make sure that he was on the right road. In short, two different people had told him that he was on the right road, going in the right direction and should arrive at his destination within five days from the beginning and two days after getting off the cart. So unless some unseen force picked him up while he was sleeping and placed him someplace else entirely that at least to a non-woodsman looked the same as where he fell asleep, he had to be looking at the capitol city. There was just one supreme reason he wasn't thinking something like 'I am halfway home' at the moment.

The 'capitol city' looked like a better maintained and a more expensive version than the town that he'd first walked into after arriving in the country. Mostly pagoda style buildings but with a few simpler roofs attached to buildings that still spoke to him of Asian architectural styles of one kind or another. He could see people moving to and fro, clad in the same time of clothes Li Mann as well as everyone else he'd seen so far wore. He could even see patrols of men wearing armor similar to what the bandits had worn but much more complete and much more official looking. If he had to guess, the bandits were either dishonorably discharged or the crooks had stolen their gear from the soldiers since it'd obviously be of a much higher quality than anything else available for purchase. In any case, it was pretty obvious that either he'd been dropped into the country that time forgot about a century ago or… or he wasn't in his own world anymore.

Some might think that he'd just been sent back in time but the odd weapons the bandits had used squashed that possibility nicely.

Still, he didn't have enough information yet to be comfortable with his current situation since 'alternate reality' was something of a broad term and he wanted something a little more specific. With that in mind he started walking forward and didn't stop until he was in the middle of the town, where he could get a closer look at things. Looking at the signs, he was somewhat pleased to know that whatever world he was in, whatever country he'd landed in, used a mix of English and Japanese rather than some language he'd be hopeless in. The former he knew since he'd been raised on it and used it all his life. As for the latter subbed anime helped with a lot of the more common signs while his own efforts at learning Japanese, both written and spoken, after he'd decided to travel to Japan after graduation. It wasn't perfect, not by a long shot, but he felt fairly certain that he could read most things written and understand enough of what was spoken to get by.

Store sign after store sign he looked at, trying to find clues that'd tell him something about the world he was in and if he'd lucked out by landing in a dimension familiar to him. Oh, sure, he knew that there were an infinite number of alternate dimensions and that the odds of him landing in one that matched a television show or movie or video game or anime were pretty damn small. Still, a guy could hope and it was actually a good coping mechanism for the fact that he was now who knew how many dimensions away from his friends, with possibly no way of getting back. Looking about he tried to find something that'd give him an idea of what fictional world he'd dropped into but most of the signs were unhelpful. Then he heard the roaring of an excited crowd to his right and decided to see what the commotion was about on the off chance he'd like it too. Plus, if a lot of people were there, he could eavesdrop and possibly get more clues about what world he was in so he could start making some plans.

A minute or three later he came upon a fairly decent crowd of people surrounding what looked to be a platform surrounded by a fifteen foot high wire fence. It kinda reminded him of a fight cage but a bit more primitive, implying that it valued function over appearance. Inside two guys were going at it like kung fu masters, at speeds that he'd probably have had difficulty following if it weren't for the Wolverine upgrades. All in all it looked pretty damn cool, with the rest of the crowd sharing his opinion of the performance the fighters were putting on.

However when he noticed the sign hanging from the top of the wire fence, all thoughts of the fight left his mind as the impossible suddenly became reality.

'Wutai Monthly Fighting Tournament'.

That's what it said.

Wutai.

It hit him all at once and it was only a miracle that he managed to keep his utter shock from being voiced out loud.

The names of the places Li Mann told him about, the weird weapons the bandits used and the distinct pre-modern era Japanese architecture as well as clothing all fit together with that one name.

 _HOLY SHIT! I'M IN THE FINAL FANTASY SEVEN UNIVERSE!_ he thought before managing to stumble over to an empty bench and sit down.

Of all the places he'd considered being dropped in, both since his parachute-less sky dive and even back in Sunny-D when the gang debated where they'd most like a random dimensional portal to drop them, it'd never come up. Mostly because the game had only come out at the beginning of September and they'd only reopened the debate once since then. He'd already beaten the game at home on his Playstation, a gift from Jesse's parents after his death as a 'he would have wanted you to have it' thing, so he had a reasonable idea of how things worked.

In this reality monsters of all shapes and sizes existed and were considered as normal as normal animals were back home. There were no real sprawling cities like Los Angeles or New York City, with the only one that came close being Midgar, though he wouldn't exactly call the metallic city a good place to live. The graphics of the game might not have given a very realistic picture of how things were but he'd seen enough to know that the people who lived in the slums basically lived in a cross between a landfill and a sewer. Sure, Aerith managed to pretty up the church and the area around her home with flowers but the rest of the place looked barely livable, with more than a few people getting sick on a regular business.

 _At least I won't have to worry about that place anytime soon,_ he thought as he looked about the capitol of the country of Wutai. _Still, if this is Yuffie's hometown then there's something off about all this._

According to the stuff mentioned in the game, Wutai had been reduced from a proud warrior nation to a tourist attraction where it was forbidden for people to own or use materia. It was one of the main reasons the klepto girl worked so hard to acquire as many materia spheres as possible, thinking that it'd help make her country great again.

Looking about, though, the capitol city didn't look like some cheesy tourist spot and the fact that he could see armed soldiers patrolling the area as well as monitoring the fight meant that something was definitely amiss. While people owning basic weapons and knowing how to fight probably wasn't forbidden under the terms set down by Shinra, having an actual military probably did. Did that mean he'd landed in the reality far after the end of the game where it had been successfully restored or way before the game and the conflict with Shinra? He wasn't sure which would be preferable but it was definitely something he needed to find out since, if he was less than a year away from the Wutai war, he wanted to know so he could hop on the next boat out of the country.

He didn't like Shinra or what they did to Wutai but he wasn't stupid enough to think that even a determined pseudo-Wolverine would be able to change the outcome. Even if he went all out, he would only be one person against hundreds of Shinra troops, dozens of SOLDIERS of various classes and the great General Sephiroth himself. He had no idea if his claws would be strong enough and sharp enough to cut through the Masamune but, considering the supposed skill of the madman in the making, he doubted he'd last long in a fight. Even if his current theory, that the fighting skills and maybe memories of Wolverine were in his head somewhere was right, Logan did tend to rely on his healing factor to get him in close so he could use his claws.

He hadn't quite developed a resistance to pain or a willingness to get cut up just to cut the other guy just yet.

Looking about the crowd, he tried to find someone old enough to know things but also separate from the others, so EVERYONE wouldn't know he was a little clueless about stuff they took for granted. In the end he spotted a young woman in her late teens or early twenties that looked to be wearing some rather refined clothes, implying wealth. Assuming the wealthy here were anything like the wealthy pre-nineteen hundreds Japanese, then there was a good chance that she was moderately educated. Deciding she was as good a choice as anyone he got off the bench he'd been sitting on and casually walked over to her, glancing at the fight every now and again. It looked like the taller of the two fighters was beginning to gain some momentum so unless shorty managed to break it, the fight would soon be over.

"So who's your money on?" he asked the young woman in a scarlet dress without taking his eyes off the fight.

"You assume that I have made a wager on the outcome of this fight," the young woman replied in a way that spoke of refined manners and proper etiquette.

"True, but isn't that what happens at any sort of competition, plus everyone has a favorite fighter they want to see win it all," he said, nodding in concession at her point. "The way those guys are going at it, this has to be either the final match of the tournament or at least the semi-final, so I just thought you'd want one guy to win more than the other."

"I believe Gamo Naotsune will win this match and it is the final one," the young woman said after a moment's pause. "Bessho Kihei is too rigid, too traditional, to be able to adapt swiftly enough to the unexpected."

"Good choice. Being able to adapt to split second changes puts the fight in your favor," he said, remembering the number of times his quick reactions saved his butt fighting vamps.

"Not if you are only capable of reacting and not acting as well," the young woman said, sounding quite sure of herself as she glanced at him. "If you're only capable of evasion, you'll tire eventually, leaving yourself vulnerable."

"Maybe, but if your opponent relies mostly on brute strength to win a fight, you can tire him out just by dodging. Then, when he's tired, impatient or reckless, he'll make a mistake giving you an opening to exploit," he countered both truthfully and to make it sound like he actually knew something about professional fights. "A smart fighter can overcome a stronger fighter any day of the week."

The crowd roared as the taller fighter in the fenced off ring landed a decisive looking blow that knocked his opponent on his back, with signs that he'd get up decreasing by the second. Eventually the guy who he presumed was the tournament official or referee finally called it, entering the ring and raising the victor's hand to the joy of the cheering crowd. There were a few people who didn't look quite as happy, they'd probably bet on the other guy, but the majority had apparently wagered wisely before the fight started.

"He's a pretty good fighter," he said before setting up his first test. "Bet he could kick the ass of any one of Shinra's troops."

"Hmph! Those foreigners don't know anything about true fighting," the young woman grumped, clearly not a fan of foreigners or Shinra. "Ever since they discovered how to turn Mako into energy almost twenty years ago, they think they rule the planet already."

 _So Shinra is getting powerful but hasn't attacked Wutai yet,_ he thought, using logic and a little common sense. _Yuffie was sixteen in the game, I think, because she certainly acted like she was. If she was young enough to know what Wutai was like before the war but too young to fight in it, then it probably means I've landed at least ten years prior to her birth probably._

It was times like these that he really wished that the people of Squaresoft had actually gone a bit further in the game when it came to working out a specific timeline for the game. If he'd seen such precise dates in the game when he played, he'd have a better framework to work with and base his future decisions on. Still, he decided to go just a step further to see if he could wheedle out a more specific date out of the young woman while he could.

"Here's hoping they don't come here then, eh?" he asked rhetorically as the victorious fighter left the ring and entered the crowd. "They'd probably make a real mess of the place."

"We would never allow them to take a single step onto our land," the young woman said, turning towards him completely with strong resolve in her voice. "They may plunder the rest of the world but they will not defile the proud land of Wutai!"

 _So while Shinra is throwing its weight around, they haven't made a move on Wutai yet._ He figured that he had at least a five year buffer zone before the war broke out.

Assuming he stayed in the country until the absolute last minute, he'd have to keep an eye out for the first signs of Shinra trying to get access to Wutai. The game didn't specify how the whole thing began but he presumed that they tried buying land in Godo's country first and only when that failed did they declare war. After all, war is expensive and to someone like President Shinra, who valued both money as well as power, then wasting either was not something he'd do easily. He'd stick around the Wutai capitol and keep an eye out for anything that looked like a Shinra guest showing up at the royal palace or whatever they called it. Once he saw the rep go in he'd make for the harbor and do whatever he could to catch a ride someplace else.

"HEY! Just what do you think you're doing, outsider?!" came an angry voice that brought him out of his thoughts.

Looking to the voice he spotted the winner of the tournament heading towards him, a significantly angry look on his face making him wonder what he'd done to piss the guy off.

"What do you mean?" he asked, genuinely uncertain of what was being implied.

"You know damn well what I mean!" Gamo Naotsune replied, not stopping until they were almost nose to nose. "Kasumi's my girl and I won't have a foreigner like you putting the moves on her!"

"Hey, I don't know where you were looking, bub, but I was just talking about your fight with her," he said putting up his hands in the universal 'I do not want a fight' position. "If she's your girl then I'll go find someone else to talk to. Have fun with your victory celebration or whatever."

With that he turned around intent on finding the nearest bar since such places were a good source of information, provided the person you were listening in on was still partially sober.

"You dare to turn your back to me!" Gamo Naotsune roared angrily, as though he'd been insulted. "KIIYYYAAHHHH!"

Before he could even turn around to see what the guy was doing something impacted the back of his head, knocking him to the ground and, while it hurt, any damage was quickly undone by his healing factor. For Gamo, though, who he was pretty sure had kicked him in the back of the head, he was on the ground gripping the leg that'd done the kicking, screaming in pain. Not surprising since a full strength kick to the back of an Adamantium-laced skeleton must've been like kicking a thick lead pipe full blast. Either the guy's foot was severely bruised at the moment or it was broken, and that he considered a just punishment for kicking an innocent person in the back of the head with the intent to cause harm.

Plus it'd give the competitors in the next monthly tournament a chance to win the big prize rather than let this asshole go for a win two years in a row.

"A piece of advice, pal? Don't let your pride control you or else the next time you kick someone in the back of the head you might not get off so easy," he said even though he doubted that the man was even listening to him.

"GET HIM!" came an angry order but it hadn't come from Gamo.

It came from his girlfriend.

"WHAT!?" he exclaimed as he noticed several people from the crowd that'd been observing the fight started advancing towards him with hostility.

Stepping away from the advancing men, he tried to think of what he could say that'd convince them to let him off the hook but couldn't really come up with anything. He was a stranger, he had no connections or influence in Wutai and didn't have any money he could use to bribe them into letting him go. Could he take them all in a fight? Definitely. His healing factor would deal with any injuries as fast as they were created and, unless one of them had a heavy hammer or materia handy, they'd run out of steam before he did. Still, he wasn't quite ready to reveal his special mutant abilities to the people of Wutai just yet so, without any further consideration, he bolted.

"PREPARE FOR A BEATING!" one of his pursuers yelled.

"YOU WON'T GET AWAY!" yelled another, sounding like his resolve was strong enough to last a while.

 _Like hell I won't!_ he thought as he picked up the pace. _I've got over a year of experience running from things that wanted to beat me to death and I'm still here!_

Some might call him unmanly for running from a fight and out of character for Wolverine, but in his mind Logan wouldn't be so immature so as to fight a group of fight fans like this.

The X-Man might be a bit rough around the edges and might act all alpha male but he didn't get into pointless fights.

 _ **Early Evening**_

 _About flamin' time I lost those assholes!_ He sat down beneath a tree he'd chosen to hide behind. _All that noise just because their favorite fighter busted up his own leg kicking me? They're nuts!_

Still, he supposed it was this sort of mindset that led the soldiers of Wutai into getting their asses handed to them in the war against Shinra. Everything he'd ever seen in the game implied that the war was one sided since it was the only explanation for the country being turned into a vacation spot. If the war had been more equal then Wutai would've had enough pride to hold onto who they were and what made them who they were, even if it was part of the terms of surrender. When the war started, the soldiers of Wutai were probably going to be so full of pride that when they locked horns with any member of SOLDIER, they're going to get wiped out. Even if they created some kind of heavy weapon or robot to try and even things out, the most it'd likely do is take out a few second or third class SOLDIERS, plus a ton of normal troopers. Unless they had a warrior or a weapon capable of overcoming three first class SOLDIERS at once, Wutai's defeat was all but certain and their pride would lead them to it.

 _Good thing it's not going to be my problem,_ he thought before his stomach began to growl, informing him it wanted to be fed. _Right now my problem is finding something to eat that I don't have to catch, kill, skin and cook myself. Maybe a restaurant will let me have something if I promise to do the dishes for a couple of hours._

He had taken three steps away from the tree when two bits of sensory information hit him that had him freeze in his tracks so he could process it better. The first was the faint but still perceivable sound of metal against metal occurring in such a pattern that he knew it had to be a fight of some kind, and an uneven one at that. The second bit of sensory info happened when he forgot to breath through his mouth rather than his nose and wound up picking up the scent of blood in the air. Considering that only the darkest of dojos had people practicing with real weapons and permitted blood to be spilled, he figured it was a pretty safe bet that a referee adjacent fight was taking place. All of that added up to some kind of ambush he was betting and, unless reinforcements showed up to even the odds, the people losing weren't going to last another ten minutes.

Not that it was any problem of his.

No sireee bob!

Not his concern!

The scream of a female from the direction of the fight had him running towards it as fast as he could manage before his mind could stop him, leaving it nothing to do but curse his own stupid White Knight complex. Using his still somewhat overwhelming sense of smell and his sense of hearing to guide him, he only peripherally paid attention to how he managed to get around certain obstructions but still saw enough that Logan's muscle memories were coming into play again. If this turned out to be a pattern then it was safe to say that in times of stress and strong emotions, his Wolverine side was going to come out to play unless he made an effort to suppress it. Considering that he was walking into a fight where the bad guys probably outnumbered the good, he wasn't going to hold back the X-Man's fighting skills that lay in his new body's muscle memory. He'd probably need every bit of it to come out relatively unscathed and keep news of his healing factor from leaking out.

It was when he reached the edge of a stone wall holding up the side of a hill that he got his first look at the fight and it turned out to be worse than he'd thought.

On the one side were the good guys all dressed in very expensive looking outfits that practically screamed that they were from the upper crust of society, as well as three guards still living as six lying dead on the ground. From what he could tell, aside from the three remaining guards only two or three people of the rich people had any fighting skills whatsoever, with the rest resorting to the 'put something, ANYTHING, between me and the sharp pointy things' way of surviving. Those that could still fight were doing a good job but it was a case of numbers being against them that was slowly sliding things in favor of their enemies. That and he suspected that the good guys hadn't expect to be attacked by so many all at once, otherwise they either would've cancelled their little walkathon or brought more guards.

On the other side the bad guys clad in clothes and armor that looked like you could get them just about anywhere but didn't skimp on quality. Both the fabrics and the pieces of armor were quality work that'd do the job they were designed for but possessed nothing that'd allow the other side trace them back to their manufacturer or their buyer. True, he was too far away to look for any small maker symbols or signatures that might've been impressed into the armor or sewn into the clothes, but the baddies were definitely assassins. They had the whole ninja mask over the lower halves of their faces and they were completely bald, not to mention wielding weapons that definitely were made with assassination in mind. Ninjato swords, daggers, spears and sai were what he could identify off the top of his head but, since some of the dead guards had bullet holes in their chests or head, there had to be a shooter somewhere outside the main battlefield.

 _Perfect place to start evening the odds,_ he thought as he took two quick sniffs to try to locate the gunman.

It was hard, so many scents to take in at one time, but the situation that brought out his inner Wolverine seemed to cause him to be tugged towards one particular scent. Deciding it was as good a place as any to begin, he began to follow the scent and a minute later spotted a baddie laying on his stomach with a clear line of sight to the battle below. The rifle in the guy's arms was a little primitive compared to the stuff shown in the Rambo movies but was clearly effective as evidenced by the dead bodies of the guards. For a moment he debated whether to kill the sniper or just knock the person out so that he could be questioned later by the good guys, but decided on the latter. Assuming the good guys really were the good guys, then they'd need info to track down the top bad guy so he or she could be arrested and put on trial. With that decision made he crept towards the sniper and almost made it all the way before the target sensed something and turned in his direction. Abandoning stealth for speed he charged the guy and, after knocking the rifle aside, delivered a right hook that sent the killer off to lala land.

 _Well, that concludes the stealth portion of the fight,_ he thought as he looked back to the main battlefield to see that the good guys were down to the last guard. _Time to make an entrance._

Deciding it'd be best to scatter and confuse the baddies, he decided to take a page out of Logan's book and dove off the perch the sniper had been laying in, aiming for the baddie in the center of the group of assassins. Like a thrown wine barrel he crashed into the unsuspecting assassin, slamming the guy to the ground and, judging by the snapping sounds, breaking a few bones in the process despite the armor. He didn't stick around to check as he went with his momentum and rolled to his feet, grabbing the next closest assassin by his upper body armor and headbutting the guy. When Adamantium skull met normal human one, it was no wonder that the guy with the normal one got knocked out and maybe got a cracked skull as well. He turned to deal with the next closest baddie but by then the shock of his arrival had worn off, causing three members of the assassins to focus on killing him.

At first he thought that his muscle memory would be enough to keep him alive long enough to disarm his attackers then take them out with nonlethal methods, but this was quickly proven drastically wrong.

With the bandits he'd been able to hold his own and take them down without injury to show for it, but the three assassins attacking him made the bandits look like children by comparison. It was currently him letting his muscle memories and instincts have complete control over what he did that was keeping his blood from decorating the ground. Whoever the assassins were, they were good and before long the one thing he'd hoped wouldn't happen did happen: one of their blades connected, leaving an impressive slice across his chest, damaging his white undershirt. Looking down and seeing the white turn red before his healing factor sealed up the wound, leaving not even a scar behind, he got a little annoyed. The clothes he had on were all he had and if they got any more cut up or dirtied, they'd be total write offs fit only for the trash bin. Taking the respite provided by the three assassins being shocked at his rapidly healing wound, he took off his biker jacket and tossed it to the side before deciding that if they knew a little, he might as well show them the rest.

"You boys want blood? Fine! I can play that game too, bub!"

SNIKT!SNIKT!

If the assassins had been shocked by him healing from a serious wound in seconds, they were doubly so at the sight of two sets of blades popping out of his fists, with each a foot in length. Not giving them time to recover from the double shock he charged them head on, lashing out with his claws the second he got within range. To their credit they tried to stop him, block his attacks, but that proved futile in the face of metal claws made of an indestructible metal since it allowed him to cut through everything they attempted to utilize in their defense. Before long there were severed limbs and for some multiple parallel cuts in sets of three in the bodies of the three assassins, leaving only a bloody but unharmed him standing. Given the mess and the amount of time it'd taken him to take care of his attackers, he found himself quite the center of attention for both sides so he decided to take a chance to end the battle immediately.

"You wannabe assassins got two choices: surrender or die," he said, trying to sound as badass and deadly as possible. "Make the right choice, 'cause you ain't gonna like the wrong one."

The remaining assassins looked at one another, silently communicating with body language as they debated in seconds what to do, before doing something he'd both been anticipating and hoping wouldn't happen. Without any hesitation, thus showing their devotion to their master, they all killed themselves with their weapons in various ways, ranging from self-impalement to simply slitting their own throats. It all happened way too quickly for anyone to stop them and, by the time the last one dropped lifelessly to the ground, there was nothing more to do.

Taking a few more sniffs to see if there were any more surprises, he was pleasantly surprised to find that it was easier utilizing his enhanced sense of smell than it had been before. Practice makes perfect? Probably. Bottom line, though, was that he couldn't smell anything that wasn't connected to someone he could plainly see, so unless the assassins had a mole in the good guy ranks, the fight was over. Retracting his claws back into his forearms with a wince, the familiar sensation of his healing factor closinh up the openings, he walked back over to where he'd dropped his jacket and put it on.

He was about to walk away when a young man in his late teens or early twenties rushed up to stop him, with a look that implied he wanted to say his piece before parting company.

"On behalf of my clan I thank you for coming to our aid, stranger," the young man said with a formal bow that had been practiced to perfection. "Had you not come, I fear the assassins would have succeeded in their mission."

"Just a case of being in the right place at the right time," he said respectfully as he did a passable bow of his own. "Besides, I hate uneven fights for the most part."

"For the most part?" the young man asked with curiosity.

"If the number of good people outnumber the bad people, then I'm okay with that," he replied with an amused smile that was soon mirrored by the young man.

"I am not surprised that a COMMONER like you would find a situation like that favorable," came a snooty voice that instantly made him think of an Asian Snyder. "Just as I would not be surprised if you only intervened in hopes of being richly rewarded."

Definitely a guy who thought very little of the middle and lower class members of society.

"Advisor Chi-ryu! That was uncalled for," the young man said, irritation in his voice. "Is it so impossible for you to consider that a stranger would choose to aid us for no other reason than because it was the right thing to do?"

"You are young, my prince, and thus are naïve in certain matters," Chi-ryu replied, looking respectfully yet also condescendingly to the young prince. "Those without wealth or power will always seek to take it from those who do have it. If they cannot do so by force they will do it through trickery, deceit and betrayal. If it were not for his low class clothing, I would have him arrested under suspicion of being an ally of the assassins. It would be a cunning move to insert a 'hero' into the attack who conveniently managed to kill or force them to commit suicide."

 _This guy has no friends and his wife must hate him,_ he thought, taking less than five seconds to deduce the truth about Chi-ryu. _Only someone lonely and never been laid could be this much of a dick._

"Not all of them are dead," he said, ignoring the words of the advisor. "The shooter they had taking out your guards is unconscious up where I jumped from. Assuming he hasn't come to since then, you're free to question him."

With a gesture the advisor sent the sole surviving guard off to secure the unconscious member of the assassin group.

"Well, since everything seems to be settled down here, I'll be on my way," he said, deciding that there was nothing to keep him close proximity to Advisor Ass-wipe any longer.

"Wait!" the prince said, stopping him in his tracks and causing him to turn.

"What?" he asked, hoping that it was something brief.

"Here," the prince said before tossing a decent sized silk pouch to him. "It's not much but it's the least I can do to reward you for saving my life."

While normally he'd toss the money right back and say a person should never be paid for doing the right thing, the fact of the matter was that he had no money and didn't fancy living off the land. So with a respectful and grateful bow (or at least that's what he hoped was being conveyed) he accepted the money and walked away.

It wasn't until about five minutes later when his mind asked 'I wonder what the prince's name was' that something occurred to him that had him stop in his tracks.

"Holy shit! I just rescued Godo Kisaragi!" he exclaimed in shock at the fact that he'd saved the life of the future ruler of Wutai.

More than ever before he was glad that he'd chosen to seek out the source of the fighting and do the right thing by saving the young man. If he hadn't then Yuffie wouldn't have been born and she'd been one of his favorite characters in the game. A second thought occurred to him a moment later and so he opened up the pouch he'd been thrown to take a look inside. His jaw dropped once more in surprise as he found that the bag was filled more than two thirds of the way full with oblong golden plates that he was pretty sure were called Koban in Japan. He'd seen them in enough martial arts films and period movies that he'd asked Willow about them and she'd given him a three page report on Japanese currency.

 _Not sure how much one Koba is in this universe but I'm betting I have enough here enough to pay for a room plus food for a good number of weeks,_ he thought with a smile as he found himself. _Still, I should probably learn how much one of these is worth in Wutai. I'll need to make all this last and that won't happen if someone suckers me into believing they're worth less than they really are._

With that in mind he went in search of some old man playing Chinese checkers or something. It was one of his little known talents that he could master just about any board game within four rounds, so even if Wutai's version was different he'd manage to learn everything soon enough.

There was no one who cared more about the truth than an old man who took his board games seriously.

 _ **Six Months Later, Wutai Village, The Princess Bar**_

 _Flamin' unbelievable,_ he thought as he looked about the bar he'd managed to have made with the reward money Prince Godo has given him for coming to the rescue. _If someone told me a year ago I'd be the owner of a bar in the country of Wutai, I'd have laughed in their face._

It'd turned out that the amount of money that Godo had wound up giving him as a reward for taking down the assassins had amounted to roughly a quarter of a million American dollars by his estimate. Oh, the old man who'd eventually helped him out had given the total amount in gil, the currency used in most Final Fantasy games, which had been decidedly less than a quarter of a million, but he figured he had the conversion right. He'd basically taken the estimated value of a gold Koban at the end of the Edo period and replaced yen with American Dollars, so each plate in the pouch had been worth about four thousand dollars. Multiply that by the number of oblong Koban-like pieces of gold in the bag and he'd had quite a bit of currency to play with.

At first he'd just gotten a room at the local inn and occasionally hung out at the Turtle's Paradise Bar to eavesdrop on the patrons in order to get a feel for the state of the world he now lived in. Mostly he kept his ears open for any news about Shinra and the VIPs that got names along with a backstory in the game, since there was no point in learning about the nobodies. He'd paused for a second after that thought, remembering how many members of the Sunnydale nightlife had considered him a nobody, only to wind up dead thanks to him. After that he'd generalized his eavesdropping parameters to Shinra in general, as well as anything happening around their Mako reactors.

He'd confirmed that Shinra had discovered Mako energy about eighteen or so years ago and since then had been gong all out to promote the benefits of their reactors. Every other month there was something new coming out that ran on Mako energy or some ground breaking advancement in power generation. The biggest news, though, was that the construction of Migar had only started a few years ago, with completion slated to be within ten to twelve years. A few of the people who'd visited the bar had mentioned thinking about going there for the jobs that were being offered, but those people were the ones just passing through as opposed to being natives of Wutai. The locals couldn't care less about the corrupt company other than to say it wasn't their problem since they had no connection to Shinra whatsoever. He'd checked and, to his surprise, he couldn't find a single Shinra produced item anywhere in the village either owned or on the shelf ready to be sold by some shop owner.

Apparently Wutai was a self-sufficient country that didn't need stuff from elsewhere to get by.

It hadn't been until the end of month two that he'd gotten bored enough that he'd started thinking up things he could do to keep himself busy and/or amused. At first he'd thought about asking around to see if anyone was having monster problems, but since this world wasn't living in denial like Sunnydale was and the people didn't look scared shitless he figured they had it under control. He'd known nothing about what many of the jobs within a day's walk required a person to know, so aside from manual labor there'd been nothing for him to do. While not opposed to using his muscles to lift, move, shovel and do various other activities none of them were particularly fun. He wasn't money dependent thanks to the reward Godo had given him, so he could afford to try and find a job that both paid well and that he could have fun doing.

It'd been when he'd swung by Turtle's Paradise that he'd gotten his first push that'd led him to where he was now.

He'd gotten a seat at a table and was nursing the local equivalent of beer when he'd noticed one of the bar patrons getting a little too aggressive with one of the waitresses. Thanks to hanging around Wutai Village, he'd gotten to know her name, Lijuan Maeda or Maeda Lijuan or however it was supposed to be done, and while she wasn't quite in the friend category, she was getting there. As a result, seeing the patron leer at her while she put down his order was bad but when the guy grabbed her and put her in his lap, he knew things were going to go bad. Turtle's Paradise wasn't a sleazy bar that doubled as a brothel and it didn't allow the customers to get physical with the staff, be they man or woman. Naturally Lijuan tried to get back to her feet and repeatedly told the customer to keep his hands to himself, but the guy was either too drunk or too amoral to care.

Sadao, the owner of the bar, immediately left his place behind the counter to add his weight to the 'discussion' but it had not gone the way he'd thought it would at first.

It began simply enough with a polite request to let Lijuan go and a statement that such interaction with the staff was not permitted. When this had been ignored by the customer the owner had gone for a firmer 'I am serious so you do not want to cross me' tone of voice, with the added threat of summoning the village guards. This had just caused the guy to laugh before holding up a badge that immediately had caused Sadao to back down and Lijuan to submit with a bit of fear. He'd been a little confused by this but thankfully his animal sharp sense of hearing had soon caught one of the other patrons talking about how the macho jerk was a member of the Royal Investigations Bureau. Apparently they were the investigative branch of the palace guard and generally only answerable to the Emperor, Godo, and the people right under the royal family in authority. This, of course, had rankled him a bit since he came from where checks and balances were common and no one was above the law, regardless of the badge they had.

Still, he'd been willing to mind his own business, if for no other reason than wanting to avoid another encounter with Chi-ryu or cause Sadao trouble, but that'd come to a crashing halt with the asshole's next move.

Unlike most drunks he'd witnessed in his life, both from popular entertainment and real life, the guy from R.I.B. didn't stop his foul acts with just aggressive above clothes groping and sloppy kisses. The bastard had gone further and was actively trying to get his hands beneath her dress, both from below as well as at chest level. Lijuan had disliked this enough that not even the fucker's authority had been enough to prevent her from trying her best to stop the guy. However this had only angered the prick further so, with roughness bordering on violence, the R.I.B. agent threw the young waitress onto his table before ripping the front of her dress open.

THAT had been the point where he could ignore the situation no further and caused him to get out of his seat and walk purposefully over to the R.I.B. bastard. Without even bothering to try and talk the guy into leaving he instead delivered a right hook that successfully put the motherfucker on the ground, but surprisingly the guy'd managed to remain conscious. Without taking his eyes off the source of his anger he'd taken off his jacket and tossed it in the general direction of Lijuan so she could cover herself up. It hadn't been perfect since on someone her size it'd just barely covered her butt, he'd still considered it good enough. When the bozo with delusions of immunity staggered to his feet, spouting the clichéd lines like 'you do not know who you're messing with', he had decided to drive his point home. Shoving the prick until his back was against the wall, he popped two of the claws from his right hand, the far left and far right one, before thrusting them so that they pierced the wood on either side of the butthead's neck. Then, ever so slowly, he extended the middle claw until it was half an inch from the guy's throat.

"These claws of mine… still don't have perfect control over them. Sometimes they slip out of my control," he'd said while looking the asshole right in the eye. "You ever show your face around Lijuan or Turtle's Paradise again and I promise I'll show you just how sharp they really are. You understanding me, bub?"

The R.I.B. agent couldn't nod yes quickly enough and for a moment he'd been satisfied, but it quickly turned to disgust when a foul smell reached his nose.

The asshole had just pissed himself in fear of what'd been implied.

After the loser ran out of the bar both Sadao and Lijuan had expressed their gratitude for his aid and for some reason a feeling of pleasant surprise flowed over his mind before vanishing. It'd almost been as if he'd expected them to attack him, or at least start yelling at him for what he'd done, but that hadn't make any sense so he'd just ignored it. Nevertheless, both of them had been worried about the possible repercussions that could be heading their way once the agent sobered up and remembered how he'd been humiliated. Realizing that in trying to help he may have caused trouble, he promised to hang out in front of the bar and if anyone from the R.I.B. or on orders from the Bureau tried anything, he'd deal with it. For the next two days he'd parked himself outside the bar, taking breaks only to use the bathroom or eat so as to ensure that nothing could be attempted against the Turtle's Paradise or its employees.

It had been on the third day that the R.I.B. agent returned with six of his friends, no doubt believing that numbers would be enough to give him the advantage. Things'd only gotten more interesting when the asshole actually held up an official looking document that basically amounted to an arrest warrant for him, Sadao and Lijuan. The fool also claimed that until further notice the Turtle's Paradise would be shut down until a 'thorough investigation' could be carried out. It'd concerned him that such heavy handed action was being taken but only until he'd spotted the signature at the bottom of the paperwork.

Chi-ryu.

Apparently the condescending paranoid advisor that reminded him a little too much of Snyder had decided to throw his authority behind this petulant form of retaliation. It'd likely only taken the mention of an outsider with metal claws in his fists to get the snooty little prick to sign off on the arrest warrants, as well as the shut down of the Turtle's Paradise. This misuse of power and the agent's behavior were all the excuse he needed to make a decision to aggressively oppose the idiots in front of him and he'd known right where to start.

A right hook and an uppercut later and the agent that'd started the mess had been sent to the ground barely conscious and in no position to give out orders.

Then he'd gone to work on his backup, but despite what his inner anger was beseeching him to do he didn't pop the claws for these guys except in cases to destroy their weird spear rifles. They'd put up a good fight but nowhere near what the assassins had proven capable of, so he'd been able to defeat them without drawing blood. It made him wonder what the recruitment standards were for the R.I.B., because if seven of them couldn't take down a single man with limited hand-to-hand combat skills and involuntary muscle memory-driven movements, then Wutai was in more danger than he'd thought. Nevertheless he'd told the agent and his band of thugs that the Turtle's Paradise and its employees were under his protection and if they knew what was good for them, they'd back off. Their courage deflated the idiots had grudgingly retreated, but he'd known right from that moment that this wouldn't be the end of things. Men willing to abuse their power to avenge a humiliating defeat wouldn't let things go until their very lives were in danger, with it clear that nothing could keep them safe.

So once he'd made sure that the Turtle's Paradise would be safe for the time being he'd slunk off, using his sense of smell to follow the men he'd just defeated. He'd had no doubt they'd be running back to Chi-ryu to report their defeat and ask for further assistance, either in the form of weapons or armed soldiers. It hadn't been easy to follow and not be seen but by paying more attention to his enhanced senses and timing things just right he'd successfully infiltrated the royal grounds. A minute later he watched from a reasonably obscured perch as the R.I.B. agent told the advisor of his failure and THAT led to a tongue lashing that almost managed to impress him. In fact the pre-modern Japanese Snyder had been so upset that he'd ordered the 'lesser men' to leave him rather than give them what they tried to ask for.

It'd only been once he was sure that any reinforcements would be far too distant to be any problem that he'd dropped down from his perch. Sadly he wasn't quite as silent as Logan probably was, so the arrogant man turned the second he heard the sound but he'd been anticipated this, so with all the speed he could muster he crossed the distance and latched onto the man's throat. Latched on TIGHTLY so as to not let so much as a single peep escape from the high and mighty idiot's lips, much less a call for the guards. Also as expected a look of outrage had blossomed on the man's face but, with his throat having difficulties, all Chi-ryu could do was glare angrily. Well, that and pull a knife from somewhere on his person and stab him in the stomach, but he'd been expecting that as well and therefore he'd done his best not to show any reaction at all. The fool then tried three more times in search of a more satisfactory response but he'd managed to keep his face straight and his body language from showing how much pain he was really feeling. When the prick finally stopped, he calmly pulled the knife out of his gut but kept it close so as to ensure that Chi-ryu's eyes would stay focused on that area.

It'd been priceless to watch the man's face as the wound closed itself up before vanishing entirely.

It'd been a bit of a question as to why no one had asked him about his ability to heal after the thwarted assassination but the best answers he'd been able to come up with was either it'd happened to quick for others to see or one of the trained killers' bodies had been in the way. As for his claws, Godo and his people likely presumed that he'd simply taken knives out from somewhere and put them back in the same place. After all, while the Final Fantasy Seven universe was odd, no one here could heal from serious injuries in a matter of seconds without the right potion or the right materia. Maybe they'd thought he'd had materia on him and cast a cure spell without them seeing it? In the end it didn't matter because Chi-ryu was floored by the ineffectiveness of his blade, so it was time to show what he had to offer. Holding up his free hand just in front of the man's face, he'd popped his claws, nearly giving the man a heart attack with the suddenness of it all.

From there he'd told the man in VIVID detail how he was going to leave the Turtle's Paradise Bar and everyone attached to it alone or he'd come by for another visit and it'd be a LOT more PAINFUL. He'd then punctuated his statement by giving the man a flesh wound on the upper arm before throwing the bastard onto his desk, then he bugged out.

He'd made it halfway to the wall surrounding the royal grounds before the alarm went out, proving that Chi-ryu was just as stupid as he looked. It'd been a bit of a tight fit getting past the guards but in the end no one'd seen him leave and he'd just faded into the night. After that things were pretty quiet and the R.I.B. steered clear of the Turtle's Paradise altogether and any trouble from the cocksucker advisor also went away. He'd concluded that the man had raised the alarm in the hopes that he'd be captured swiftly so that retaliation could be carried out quietly, but when that failed the asshole's pride caused him to drop the matter.

Pride and fear, that is.

It hadn't been until a week had gone by that he'd come up with a way to keep trouble from ever heading Turtle's Paradise's way ever again: he'd open his own bar! It'd been a whim at first but, the more he'd thought on the matter, the more it made sense to him. By having his own bar all the people that were pissed at him would come to his place to cause trouble rather than Sadao's bar and he was much more likely able to handle said trouble. When there wasn't trouble Sadao and him could refer business to each other and, if Chi-ryu tried to shut one of them down, the employees could get hired on by the other bar. If the Snyder wannabe tried to shut down both bars, that'd get noticed by everyone in the village and hopefully Godo himself, making an explanation something of a requirement. The future ruler of Wutai hadn't backed down in the face of the advisor, or at least showed a willingness to question the bastard's position. Unless the current emperor of Wutai had unusual levels of trust in his advisor, Chi-ryu would have no choice but to drop any retaliation plans until a more advantageous opportunity presented itself.

Now he was standing outside of his bar that had been built just how he wanted it, being a mix of local architecture styles while also bearing a resemblance to how the original Princess Bar had been depicted in the comic books. It'd been difficult since he was no artist and some things he'd been forced to draw since it'd been impossible for him to describe it well enough for the builders. Nevertheless he couldn't argue with the end results, so with a smile he moved over to the door to put out the 'OPEN' sign so everyone passing by could see that they now had a choice of bars. He also put out a 'HELP WANTED' sign since he sincerely doubted he could run the entire show solo and having a pretty waitress could help bring in customers.

However he'd make it clear to customers from the very first day she worked that this was a 'look but do not touch' environment and that people who got too tactile with the waitress would be asked to leave. How long they'd be kept out would depend on how far they went with the touching and how well they responded to the requests to stop. He'd be willing to make some exceptions if he knew the person wasn't normally bad and only got that way when drunk, but otherwise he'd keep a hard line with customers.

Opening the door, he put the necessary signs out and gazed about the area he'd chosen to build the bar in, seeing every person there as potential customers for his bar.

 _Time to see if I have the right stuff for running a business,_ he thought with a grin before closing the door and going back inside.


	3. Life has its ups and downs

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the copyrighted materials contained herein. They are the rightful property of their respective creators and/or associated companies. I make no profit from this whatsoever and I have no intention of changing this in the future. I write because it's fun and because there are those who enjoy reading my stories. Therefore it would be greatly appreciated if no legal action were taken against me.

PS-Positive reviews will be appreciated. Constructive criticism will be considered but not necessarily acted upon. People looking to write vile things and generally call my works trash will be at the very least ignored and at the very most review blocked.

 _ **One Month Later, The Princess Bar, Late Evening**_

 _ **Xander's POV**_

"See you tomorrow, Sayuri." he said as he continued to wipe down the bar.

"See ya, boss!" Sayuri said, half turning around in order to wave goodbye.

 _Not bad for the first month in business,_ he thought as he watched the last of the customers stumble their way towards the door. _Only a few complaints and no trouble from that prick of an Advisor._

He was glad that the fool had taken his warning all those months ago seriously because it would've really soured the mood for him if he had to deal with trumped up charges or harassment. According to Sadao, the Turtle's Paradise was trouble free as well, aside from the few loud drunks that were regulars, so it looked like that agent of the R.I.B. had a good memory.

A pity since he wouldn't have minded giving the idiot a refresher course on what happens to guys who try to rape women.

As the last person left he went about cleaning the bar from one side to another, then taking stock of what booze he was short on and how soon he'd have to put in an order for a fresh shipment. The next bit was rather unique since he'd put a small kitchen into the plans to be placed to the rear of the building so he could serve a few meals. By meals he wasn't talking about just the usual assortment of side dishes or snacks that were common to bars, but rather real breakfast, lunch and dinner meals as well. It was a hard at times since not every ingredient he was familiar with existed in this dimension but, with some trial and error, along with some help from Sadao, he managed to find substitutes.

One of the few times where a healing factor was useful was that it helped overcome getting sick because of whatever you ate.

He still puked once or twice when tasting his 'culinary creations', though.

He was about to move into the kitchen to clean up there when he heard the front door open and he realized that he probably should've put out the closed sign before starting clean up. Turning around to tell whoever had entered that he was closing down for the night, he stopped when he beheld a hooded man wearing clothes that looked like hand me downs from the royal servant's closet. He couldn't see the man's face but whoever it was obviously didn't want people to get a good look at his face, so that meant he was either a criminal or on the run from one. The former he didn't have any trouble serving so long as they didn't cause him any trouble and didn't forget to pay their bill before they left. As for the latter, he had no issue with serving them either and, if he could somehow be of help in dealing with the pursuing criminals, he'd do what he could.

First things first though: get more info.

"We're closing up for the night so unless this is an emergency, I'm afraid you're going to have to come back tomorrow," he said walking casually towards the newcomer.

"I wouldn't call it an emergency but it is important to me," declared a familiar voice before the young man pulled back the hood obscuring his face. "After all, I've wanted to see how well my investment turned out for a while now but tonight was the soonest I could come."

Surprise swam through his mind for a moment as he recognized the voice and soon after did the same to the face that was revealed.

Godo Kisaragi.

Now the outfit made sense since he doubted it was permissible for the prince of Wutai to go off on his own without an armed escort, much less pay a visit to a middle class bar.

"Well, I'm glad you could make it," he said with his lopsided smile. "Food and drinks on me. What'll you have?"

"I'm not sure. I've never had food or drink that wasn't already chosen for me," Godo said as he sat down next to the bar. "Everything has to be tested for poisons, everything has to be 'fit for a prince' and no one cares if I actually like what they put in front of me. What do you recommend?"

"Sounds rough. Well, there are a few dishes and bottles that sell pretty good, so you'll probably like them," he replied as he looked through his bottles of booze before selecting a frequently requested liquor. "Have a glass of this and I'll see if there's enough for a plate in the kitchen."

Pouring only half a glass just in case Godo didn't like it, he then journeyed to the kitchen to put together a meal. It was yet another thing that he'd had to get used to while running a bar in the Final Fantasy universe: no modern appliances. There was no Mako reactor in the country and that meant no electricity and that meant no refrigerators, modern ovens or things like blenders. Therefore he had to cut a fair amount of firewood to get a fire going so he could cook things, forcing him to judge how hot it was by what he could feel rather than notches surrounding a dial. He needed an ice box to keep certain foods and ingredients from going bad too quickly but thankfully there was a vendor nearby who used ice materia that he could buy it off of. As for stirring things, he had to do it all by hand, making preparing a meal a time consuming affair like never before. Fortunately in this case he'd learned to make a lot of meals that could be cooked in bulk and, unless he was mistaken, there should be just enough for one plate still on the stove.

A few scoops here, a little pouring there and top it all off with a sprinkle of herbs on top and the meal was ready to eat with no need to heat it up any further.

Carrying the plate back into the main area of the bar he found Godo sipping on the drink, looking intrigued and but not happy in a 'I just found my new favorite drink' sort of way. Still, there were a few others he could try based on the young man's opinion of his current drink but he'd have to make sure to cut him off before he got too sloshed. Not only would being drunk make things a bit harder for the young prince to sneak back into his room but hangovers were no fun if you didn't have a healing factor to make quick work of them. Setting the plate down on the bar, he leaned back against the shelf behind him waiting to see what Godo's opinion of the drink was.

"Not entirely unpleasant but not something one gulps." Godo declared, cluing into what was expected.

"True. Most people who order it take it in sips," he said, recalling what he'd observed in the past. "There are a couple of others you can try if you want."

"Maybe later," Godo said before taking his first mouthful of the meal.

From the way the man's face lit up with surprise and pleasure, he knew he'd chosen the right meal to be the prince's first taste of Princess Bar food.

"This is delicious! What is it?" Godo asked before putting another mouthful in his mouth.

"Well, I'd based it on a meal I had a while back but I couldn't get the same ingredients so I improvised in more than a few spots," he replied trying to keep things obscure. "It's technically not even the same meal anymore. I just call it the sensation special… at least until I can come up with a better name for it."

"Well it certainly is sensational!" Godo said on his third spoonful. "I don't suppose I could get the recipe? For my cook?"

"As long as you make him promise not to tell a soul how to make it," he replied, glad that his meal was liked so much. "I spent a good couple of hours putting it together but it won't do me a lot of good if every business in Wutai has their own version by the end of the year."

"I shall make certain that none of the specifics are allowed to spread," Godo said with surprising seriousness, making him believe that the prince could be trusted.

Taking out a piece of paper from beneath the bar he quickly jotted down the steps to make the meal, the ingredients required and even where those items could be purchased. Once he was done he passed the paper to Godo, who promptly folded it up with signs of many years of practice before tucking it away.

"So, what's new and interesting up in the royal palace?" he asked, deciding to take control of the conversation for the time being.

"Nothing particularly interesting. Just the day to day decisions that need to be made in order to keep a country running smoothly," Godo replied, sounding like he was positively bored by it all before a grin appeared on his face. "Still, it has been fun making Chi-ryu jump at shadows the last couple of months. He seems to be under the impression that an intruder could come for his life at any time."

"Oh? What could've made him think that?" he asked, doing his best to sound innocent.

"About five months or so ago someone managed to get into the royal grounds undetected and threatened my advisor's life. Left some nasty looking cuts on his upper arm," Godo replied with a look that he already had a pretty good idea of what happened. "The palace guards did everything they could to find the intruder but he managed to slip away without a trace. Chi-ryu was quite upset by this but, when asked for details, he wouldn't say and merely stressed the need to increase security."

"Sounds like a good idea," he said with a smirk. "You can't be too careful these days. Still, as long as he's on his best behavior, I don't think Chi-ryu has anything to worry about. People generally only try to kill others if they're given a good reason to."

"My thoughts exactly," Godo stated with a matching grin.

"Speaking of people trying to kill someone, I don't suppose you could tell me who hired those assassins to kill you the first time we met?" he asked as a moment of curiosity overtook him.

"Since the matter is settled I suppose I can tell you," Godo replied after taking in another mouthful. "Not every noble family in Wutai is on good terms with the Kisaragi clan. My father is rather inflexible when it comes to living one's life according to a warrior's code of honor and defending our culture from outside influences. As a result he expects those below him to do the same and this has limited the… opportunities the nobles can take advantage of. Many of them would be much happier if a new and more 'open minded' ruler would replace my father and so they targeted me. As the only son of the Emperor of Wutai, if I died there would be no one to carry on my father's way of life as he is too old to father another son to take my place.

"The shooter you rendered unconscious was quite stubborn at first but eventually our interrogators managed to trick him into giving us a valuable clue about his master's identity. From there the investigation went quickly and the noble who masterminded the affair has been imprisoned for the rest of his life." Godo sounded maliciously satisfied. "My father wanted to have him executed but I managed to convince him that a living prisoner would serve as a better example to the others than a dead one. Let the fool live out his entire life watching my family prosper and grow!"

"I like the way you think, Godo," he said, nodding with approval at the punishment.

While there were situations where only death was an acceptable punishment for a crime, there were times when something worse than death was the better way to go.

From there the two of them talked about the things they'd heard, seen and done since that fateful day when they'd first met. Godo was only able to stick around for two hours before he had to leave to get back to his room, explaining any longer and his father might send out the palace guard looking for him. That was not something either of them wanted due to the hassles that'd stick around long after the prince was escorted back to the palace. In his case he'd probably come under extra scrutiny for a couple of weeks and that'd affect his overall customer flow and that would affect his profits. It'd be temporary, probably, but it'd still reduce profits and, while he wasn't lacking for customers or money at the moment, no businessman liked losing money or the customers that gave them money.

Still, it was nice to know that he now had an ally of sorts in the royal palace.

It was good having a prince for a friend.

 _ **One Year Later, Unknown Location**_

"The time has come, my brothers!" the Chief Assassin declared from atop the stage. "Tonight we will exact our revenge on the outsider who killed so many of our kin and aided the foul Kisaragi clan in their foul imprisonment of our Lord and Master! We have watched! We have studied! Tonight Alexander Howlett DIES!"

A roar of agreement and revenge fueled fury filled the air as over thirty assassins raised either a fist or a weapon into the air in a show of solidarity.

This had been a long time in coming and for some it had been TOO long, but it would be well worth the effort. Ever since their Lord had been arrested for his attempt to overthrow the tyrannical Kisaragi clan, they had been working towards this day. In civilian clothes they'd watched the person most responsible for their Lord's incarceration both from the streets as well as in the outsider's bar. They almost exhaustively studied his every movement, looking for clues to his abilities, his skills and the tactics he would employ if engaged in battle. The last had proven difficult to acquire until it was found that Alexander occasionally played games with a local elderly man and the games in question required the use of strategy. Once they knew which games would be played it was a simple matter of observing every game closely and then analyzing it all after the fact for patterns.

One of the first things they learned was that their target had amazingly sharp senses, forcing them to monitor the direction the wind was blowing at all times in order to ensure that they remained downwind of him. After a few close calls they also employed oils and other substances to further mask their presence and make them seem to belong to whatever location they were watching him from. They did not know if his senses of sight and hearing were equally as sharp as his sense of smell but there were strong indicators that this might be the case. As a result they all went through exhaustive training to become as silent and stealthy as they possibly could in order to minimize the chances of being detected.

They had also thoroughly questioned the R.I.B. agent that had, according to various sources, gotten into an altercation with the target at the Turtle's Paradise. They had been somewhat surprised to learn that the bladed weapons they had evidence for were actually implanted into Alexander's fists and could be extended or retracted at will. Such implants had been considered by various members of their group but were deemed too impractical in the end due to the dependency on healing potions and materia. Whether the man used materia or potions somehow to heal the damage caused by his implements they could deal with them well enough. All they needed to do was act before he could heal himself and keep him from using either option or materia during the battle. If they did so he would bleed, greatly weakening him all the quicker, allowing them to deliver the killing blow.

Finally, in case of an emergency, the leader of their group had fire and lightning materia on his person that was two thirds mastered. It was a last resort option that would only be employed if it became clear that their standard weapons would not be enough to slay the target. They had their honor, after all, and up until the attempted assassination of Godo Kisaragi they had every reason to believe that their standard weapons would be enough to slay any target. However, thanks to Alexander Howlett, a black mark had been put on their reputation, making a few faithless fools question the effectiveness of their group.

Such doubters had been given one chance to redeem themselves and, for those that'd failed, they would at least find honor in death.

Soon, though… soon the cause of their problems and shame would be dead and they would wipe the stain from their honor once and for all.

Or die trying.

 _ **One Week Later, Sunset, Streets of Wutai Village, Xander's POV**_

 _Of all the time for Shusuke's cart to bust a wheel..._ he thought as he carried the crate of wine bottles down the street. _Hopefully things won't get too busy for Sayuri._

Business had picked up the last couple of days thanks to the monthly fighting tournament and while it was keeping everyone at the Princess Bar busy it was also quite profitable. In the beginning it'd taken while for tourists and locals to work up the courage to try the new bar instead of going to the old familiar one but fortunately, once they got past that hurdle, everything was fine. Now, just like he'd originally intended, the Turtle's Paradise Bar referred business to him and he in turn referred business back to them. They'd even worked up a system where he'd mostly have just the more potent liquors, with only a small selection of the tamer ones, while Sadao would have the opposite. This way they'd still be able to cater to the desires of their customers and, if they didn't have the right booze, they could refer the person to the other bar. It benefited them both but, because he stocked mostly the strong stuff, it required that half of it be shipped in from other places on the planet by boat. Normally Shusuke would load it into his cart and drop it off in front of the bar but, with the busted wheel, he'd been forced to go pick it up.

 _Stupid dock paperwork!_ he thought with some irritation at the requirement that he sign it himself since he was the owner of the bar and the receiver.

Walking down the dirt road, he took in things that had become familiar to him since he'd first come to the village and decided that, even if he never found a way to return home, this wouldn't be such a bad place to live out his days. Here no one knew of Tony and Jessica Harris. They only knew him as Alexander Howlett, or Xander as he let his friends call him. He was not judged by his parents' mistakes and poor personalities but rather by his own behavior and choices. It was a clean slate. Add to that the fact that he had the powers of a seriously badass character from Marvel Comics and he could definitely say he'd upgraded to a better life.

 _Now if only the other Scoobies had been dragged along for the ride..._ he thought as he turned a corner. _Then everything would be-_

His mind froze as he took in the street before him and instantly noticed that something was not right, enough to set him on edge. It was a street that he frequently went down so he knew how it looked at just about any time of day but what he saw was not its typical sunset position. Usually around this time an elderly couple from two buildings down would be sitting outside enjoying a drink while they took in the beautiful sunset. They were nowhere to be seen. There was also some scattered clutter that he didn't recall being there on his way down to the docks. Two carts and a sizeable stack of boxes were set out in suspicious places to be precise. These things immediately caused him to be wary so he took three deep sniffs of the air that, thanks to months of practice, he was getting better at deciphering what his nose was telling him.

There was nothing immediately alarming, like the smell of gunpowder or blood, but the sheer difference from what he was used to convinced him to carry the crate entirely in his left arm while keeping his right arm free. Resuming his walk down the unnatural street, he kept his eyes open for any sign of trouble while listening for anything suspicious. He knew this wasn't the Hellmouth and that in the Final Fantasy universe, if a monster or a group of monsters decided to cause trouble, they tended to be noticed fairly quickly, but he just couldn't shake the feeling of unease inside him. The longer he was without an answer to the cause, the more uneasy he felt so, when his instincts suddenly roared within, he reacted without thinking.

Spinning around he lashed out, executing a roundhouse kick, but then three things happened that he had not anticipated. First his eyes registered a man wearing the same gear as the assassins that'd tried to kill Godo his first day in Wutai Village. The second was that, even though he had acted spontaneously, the assassin had been quick enough to evade his kick. The third thing was that, before his leg could get out of reach the killer lashed out with his ninjato sword, slicing through the back of the lower part. It wasn't just a paper cut either but rather a good inch and a half deep, causing him to grunt in pain and, when he tried to put weight on it a second later, he almost went down to one knee.

 _Not good! I haven't had a chance to raise my fighting game since I fought them last and the only reason I won last time was because of my claws,_ he thought as he threw the crate of wine at the assassin to buy himself some time. _With only one of their guys surviving I have no way of knowing how much intel about the fight got back to the main group. Probably mostly rumors and speculation, but even with that there's a good chance they've upped their game since then. Not good._

Feeling the wound in his leg heal up in seconds, he strengthened his stance and immediately brought out his claws since he wasn't in the mood to get unnecessarily cut up in this fight.

"If you're looking for payback, bub, then I hope you've got your affairs in order," he said even as his attacker moved to attack him once more.

Deciding to go with a move filled with shock value, he executed a slash with his right hand, targeting not his enemy but rather the weapon that'd cut him. It was his belief that, if the guy saw his trusted blade cut through like it was paper, the asshole might rethink his plan of revenge since what could be done to tempered metal could also be done to flesh and bone. However things didn't go according to plan since, instead of trying to overpower his slash, the killer skillfully parried it aside, losing only about a quarter of an inch of his blade's width in the process. Then the assassin executed a thrust kick aimed at his jaw that he reflexively avoided even though he'd have suffered no permanent damage if he'd been hit and his opponent might have injured his foot. Expecting that the guy would retract his foot before attacking again he figured he had a good chance to end the fight immediately. Bringing his left fist up, he prepared to plunge the claws into the killer's side, thus dealing a wound that would kill the guy in seconds. However before he could, his adversary did something straight out of a martial arts film by hooking his extended foot behind his head and used it to back flip out of the way. To say that he was impressed would be quite accurate but he still didn't think he'd lose this fight since, according to the comic books, Wolverine could come back from just about anything shy of decapitation.

He may go through a butt load of pain but, as long as he kept his head, both figuratively as well as literally, he'd come out on top.

Seeing the assassin lunge forward for another strike, he made it look like he was going to try to cut the blade again but at the last second he sheathed his blades. Surprise blossomed in his enemy's eyes as he over swung his blade and an opening appeared that he did not hesitate to pounce on. With superhuman reflexes he grabbed the wrist of the man's extended arm and lashed out with the still-extended claws from his other hand, severing the limb just below the elbow.

"AAAHHHH!" the assassin screamed out in pain as he instinctively backed away from the source of the threat.

It didn't do him much good.

With a mind still awash with the shock and pain of having part of his arm cut off, the killer couldn't think clearly and therefore did not react quickly enough to the follow up attack. Pushing off the ground with all the strength his legs possessed he lunged forward and rammed the newly redeployed blades from his right fist right into the stomach of his opponent. Knowing that there was a chance the man could use materia to heal or use a potion, he decided to maximize the damage by savagely pushing his right hand upwards, causing his blades to cut their way free. With such damage there was no way a potion or a spell could save the assassin's life, thus ensuring that the threat was over. Looking at the bloody body on the ground, he couldn't help but wonder what this lone assassin had hoped to accomplish by attacking him alone. Even with only sketchy details of the attempt on Godo being available, this guy must've known that he was capable of taking him on and likely winning. Was it some kind of honor in death thing?

 _Whatever it was, it's over now._ He sheathed the blades in both his arms.

A faint whiff of something foul and the twang of taut string being released was the only warning he got that someone was going to prove him wrong. The sound came from behind him so he dove to the side since there were bad odds when he considered just standing and evading it or trying to deflect it with his claws. However whoever the archer was they were good and, despite his actions, the arrow succeeded in piercing his upper leg but it must've hit his bones since it didn't come through the other side. Hitting the ground, he grimaced at the pain he was feeling but that didn't stop him from ripping out the arrow so that his healing factor could patch up the wound.

Throwing the projectile away, he looked back in the direction of where the arrow had come from and spotted another two assassins, both with bows and quivers full of arrows at their disposal. Getting to his feet as quickly as he could, he knew he had to get out of the archers line of sight unless he wanted them to pepper him with arrows. Sure, he could've charged their position since ranged warriors tended to be weak in close quarters combat, but he wasn't going to dance to that tune. If there were three assassins after him then there were probably more and, without knowing just how many were in the area, it'd be stupid to just try to cut his way through. Even with a healing factor there'd been times in the comics where the enemy succeeded in wearing the man down enough to render Logan unconscious by piling on the damage. They'd need a helluva lot of bullets or a lot of men willing to throw their lives away just to do him serious damage but it was a possibility worth considering.

 _If I'm going to come out on top, I need to get to a place where they won't be able to hide their numbers so well,_ he thought as he prepared to run for a nearby alley. _The open area around the well nearby should fit the bill nicely._

However, as he took his step, a feeling of numbness began to manifest within his body, making his legs harder to move than they should have been. It got so bad that by the time he took ten steps, it was all he could do to keep himself standing and when he wondered what the cause could have been his mind immediately latched onto one thing: poison. The arrow that'd pierced his leg must've been dipped in a poison of some kind and now that poison was robbing him of his ability to move properly. Two more spikes of pain blossomed in his back as the archers sunk more arrows into him and he knew that, if they were laced with poison as well, he was running out of time. Given enough time he was sure his healing factor would flush the poison from his body, getting it back to normal, but there was no telling when that would be. It could take one minute or it could take five but with fresh poison being introduced by the archers, it'd only be after they used up their ammunition that his body would have a chance to do its work.

He wasn't willing to remain vulnerable for that long.

So it was with a look of resolve and anger that he turned to face the archers and, with a roar worthy of Wolverine, he charged towards their position with every ounce of speed he could muster. Seeing a cart coming up on his right he decided he'd use it as a springboard to get to the rooftops but, when he leapt up on the cart, he heard something click.

An explosion launched him into the air even as the bits of frag from the bomb tore into the leg that'd triggered it. Fortunately for him the assassins misjudged his weight and so, instead of sailing over the archers, as had no doubt been the plan, he went flying right at them. Claws leading the way he pierced both through their throats, taking them down to the surface of the roof, killing them both. Rolling away from the street that'd likely been chosen to be the sight of his death, he let himself fall to the ground of the next street over before looking down at his wounds. His jeans were pretty torn up but thankfully there wasn't a lot of shrapnel to pick out of his legs, so he was able to remove all of them, allowing them to heal before his eyes. Reaching back with both hands he pulled out the arrows from his back, or rather what was left of them after he'd rolled off the rooftop, but once they were thrown away he renewed his efforts to get to the open area around the nearby well.

It was a tough couple of minutes getting there but by the time he did he could feel the numbing effects of the poison beginning to wear off. It'd still be another few minutes before he'd be completely back to normal but, so long as he was careful not to get hit with any more of those special arrows, he'd be fine. Keeping his back to the wooden post that was built into the side of the well, he looked about with his eyes waiting for the next assassin to appear. He was sure there'd be at least three more and, if he wanted to avoid any unnecessary pain, he needed to see them coming as soon as possible.

They appeared a minute later but, instead of thinking 'exactly what I wanted', he instantly began to regret bringing this fight into such an open area. Coming at him from every street, alley and rooftop were what looked to be thirty assassins, give or take a few, and they each wielded a different weapon associated with pre-modern martial arts movies. Swords, those naginata rifle weapons, bows and arrows, kusarigama and many other weapons were seen in the hands of people he had a feeling knew how to use them with deadly proficiency. It occurred to him at that moment that the three earlier attackers must've been a probing assault meant to show them firsthand how he fought as well as how effective their weapons would be against him. The odds were definitely against him but, when he considered fleeing, he realized that that could wind up endangering innocent people since he doubted if this many assassins were dead set on revenge that they'd give up easily.

 _FINE! If it's a fight they want then it's a fight they'll get._ His resolve become like a solid iron bar within him. _Now's as good a time as any to see just how far I can go._

SNIKT! SNIKT!

"Well? Are you going to get this little match started or what?" he asked, trying to sound like he saw this as just a sparring match.

They charged.

 _ **Hidden in Shadows Close By**_

 _Well now! Isn't this unexpected,_ he thought as he took in the scene before him. _This is certainly more than I'd expected when I was ordered to infiltrate Wutai._

When he'd been told that he would be sent out to investigate an area to see if it was potentially rich with Mako, he'd been convinced that he'd done something wrong. After all he was a Turk, not some Shinra science geek, but it'd been explained to him that the feelings in Wutai towards Shinra were not positive enough to make sending a scientist practical. Apparently these people felt rather highly about themselves and preferred to live in the past than ride the wave into the future. It was made a side mission of his that, if it turned out that Wutai was prime for a Mako reactor, to begin evaluating all the strengths and weaknesses of the nation. This would give the future negotiators, both 'aggressive' and not so, information to work with so that they could persuade the ruler of Wutai of the wisdom of becoming an ally of Shinra.

He'd only been in the country for about a month posing as a travelling salesman but from what he'd seen the locals would be fools not to take what his bosses had to offer. So many of their ways were needlessly difficult and could be facilitated so much by even the most basic of Shinra appliances that rejecting the advanced technology would be akin to rejecting good medicine. Plus there was also the compassionate route to take in that, with Shinra science, many of the diseases and medical issues that brought about the deaths of many Wutai citizens could be remedied through modern advances. Indeed, there were only two things that stood as obstacles to Shinra coming to Wutai: their ruler and their code of honor.

Thankfully, if his bosses got rid of one thing, the other would take care of itself.

If they got rid of the current ruler of Wutai and secretly backed a more flexible replacement, then that newbie could begin introducing changes in what was considered 'acceptable'. Naturally it'd have to be gradual since coming on too strong from the very beginning would provoke resistance from those citizens who'd lived the old ways for so long. Fortunately there were people in the Urban Development Department who'd become more than adept to subtly changing the opinions of the masses so it wouldn't take much to draw up some propaganda for Wutai. Within a decade they could have the locals here practically holding a parade in Shinra's honor and the local military throwing away their old weapons for the latest in company armaments.

However, if the ruler of Wutai couldn't be removed, then they would simply have to orchestrate scenarios that would specifically exploit the weaknesses of their code of honor. Oh, they would have to be careful in order to ensure that no one ever made a connection between the 'completely unconnected series of phenomena' and Shinra, but he didn't think there'd be much of a problem with that. The people of Wutai were so obsessed with their honor that the very idea of being sneaky and underhanded was no more familiar than words on a piece of paper. Not that they couldn't be stealthy, of course, but there was a difference between stealthy and sneaky that most people didn't get. Being stealthy meant operating by a set of routines and letting the environment dictate your actions whereas being sneaky meant influencing your environment to facilitate your actions.

All in all he'd been about ready to head down to the docks and book passage out of the country so he could report to his superiors when he stumbled upon this little fight, one that had grown interesting enough to make him risk taking out his spy camera and begin recording.

At first the only thing that'd interested him was that so many assassins looked to be determined to kill a single man who didn't match any of the pictures in the VIP folder he'd been handed. The guy looked like he'd been cut up pretty badly already but must've had some 'do not show pain to the enemy' mentality going on because he was standing firm at the moment. However it'd been then that he'd been given a second reason to be interested when two sets of three parallel blades popped out of the man's fists. With his camera he used the zoom function to focus on the blades and, surprisingly, he saw that they hadn't come from some hidden apparatus or weapon sheathe but rather from the man's very own flesh and blood fists. Intriguing enough on its own but, coupled with the fact that there was no bleeding occurring like there should have been, and it'd been enough for him to begin recording.

From there a fight had started unlike any he'd seen before.

If he told some of his co-workers back home about the numbers involved, they'd have assumed that the single man would've perished in the first few seconds. However assume anything and you make an ass out of yourself as well as others because the fight most certainly did NOT end in the first few seconds. The only people that perished within the first few seconds were the assassins that'd been closest to the lone guy since they failed to react quickly enough to his charge. It amazed him that the blades were so sharp that there was practically no resistance from the armor the trained killers wore as it was cut through. Blood was launched into the air from the speed and force of the slash but the single stranger didn't stop to admire his work, but rather moved onto the next target.

This proved to be the right move.

While fighting in an open area did give the archers and riflemen clear lines of sight to their target, the number of assassins present meant that moving quickly among them forced those that wished the sole opponent dead to use precise timing with their shots. One mistake, one screw up, and they'd wind up injuring or killing one of their own, only increasing the odds of their target surviving their assault. He managed to keep the camera focused on the clawed stranger without too much trouble so he was able to see when an arrow and a bullet hit their mark but strangely enough this only staggered the stranger a bit. He knew from past experience that if a Shinra trooper got hit with one or both of those shots, they'd have been on the ground in pain and bleeding out but that wasn't what was happening. Did the guy have some kind of body armor on he couldn't see?

 _C'mon, c'mon! Give me a clear look!_ he thought as he tried to zoom in to his camera's maximum level on the bullet and arrow wounds.

It was a moment later that the stranger stopped for a moment but that was all he needed to get as good a look through his camera as he was going to get without getting any closer. Watching as the arrow was ripped out of flesh, he'd expected to see blood begin to pour out of the wound but instead he saw something he would never forget. The wound actually healed on its own! In SECONDS! In less time than it took for the tossed arrow to hit the ground the wound closed up, HEALED, leaving not even a scar behind! Adjusting the aim of his camera to where the bullet wound had been, he watched as miraculously the bullet was literally PUSHED OUT of the wound before it healed itself up just like the arrow wound had once the projectile was removed.

 _How the hell is he doing this!?_

He knew the man didn't have any potions on him because he'd kept the camera on the guy the entire time and the clothes the guy had weren't made to hold anything but change or the smallest of bottles. Definitely nothing big enough to hold the fist-sized potion bottles that were used to heal wounds in the middle of a fight. He considered one of the various materia that could heal wounds but, after looking in all the usual places, he couldn't see a single accessory where a sphere of Mako could be seen. When added to the fact that there was usually a glow effect that accompanied the use of materia of any kind and those sources of magic couldn't possibly be the source of the man's regeneration.

THIS WAS AMAZING!

He was definitely going to get a BIG raise, maybe even a PROMOTION, for bringing back this video alone, never mind the rest of the stuff about Wutai!

Knowing that the more footage he could bring back the better, he kept the camera trained on the deadly stranger, making sure to capture everything he could without zooming back too far. The assassins were definitely not amateurs from the way they wielded their weapons but he knew they wouldn't win. After all how could you kill someone that could recover from wounds almost as quickly as you could inflict them? The only option was to overwhelm whatever ability was allowing the stranger to recover but, without pinning down your target with firepower and making dodging impossible, that wouldn't happen. Also, in a move that struck him with awe, he actually saw the stranger's claws slice THROUGH the blade of an assassin's sword with even more ease than the earlier slice through armor. What metal were the metal claws made of? Could they cut through anything or was there a metal out there that it wouldn't be able to even scratch?

He almost wished that one of the assassins would cut off even a sliver of the metal the claws were made of so he could recover it after the fight to bring back to Shinra. After all, video footage was all well and good, but having something tangible to hand over to the Science Department would definitely secure him a promotion. Sadly, no matter how hard or from what angle the assassins struck, all they got for their efforts were sparks or destroyed weaponry. It was only slightly disappointing to him since the footage he was getting would at least make sure he got a fat bonus on his next paycheck.

A little over fifteen minutes rolled by and the number of assassins had been reduced to less than half of what they'd started out with and it didn't look like they'd be turning things around anytime soon. As for the source of his future monetary bonus or promotion, the young man's clothes were in even worse shape than before, with the shirt hanging off him by a thread and the pants almost looking more like shorts at the moment. As for the man's physical state, he looked a little wobbly but was recovering since his stance was becoming firmer by the minute, making him think that whatever was causing the guy to heal so fast was also revitalizing him.

AMAZING!

It was at this time though that the assassins changed their demeanor from killers determined to bring down their prey to something else entirely. Without warning all but one of the remaining assassins charged the stranger as quickly as possible while reaching underneath their armor with one hand. It mystified him for a moment but then a shocking possibility blossomed in his mind, almost causing him to cry out 'BOMB', but he was too slow. The second they were within range of their target all of the assassins yanked back the hands they'd put beneath their armor and in a blink of an eye the suicide bombers exploded. Hit with fire, shrapnel and concussive force from all sides the stranger's body was torn up as though being cut by a thousand blades. Under such an onslaught it was no wonder that the victim dropped to the ground less than a minute later because there was no way whatever healing ability he possessed could stand up to that much punishment.

 _Ah well! Guess I'll have to stick around here a little longer and find out what they plan to do with the body,_ he thought with a bit of disappointment. _If I have to dig it up and steal it so I can get it back to Shinra, so be it. They'll just have to be satisfied with a corpse._

Watching as the assassin walked up to the likely dying young man, he wondered if the interesting fellow would be put out of his misery or left to die slowly.

"Now, at the end, you see the price for tarnishing the honor of my brothers and sisters, outsider," the Leader of the Assassins declared, sounding confident in his victory. "You put up a valiant struggle and what I have learned here tonight will be put to use to train the future members of our group so that we may become even deadlier and unstoppable. As you die know that Godo Kisaragi will follow you into death, slain by my own hand, removing the sole failure from our history forever. FAREWELL!"

With a single downward thrust the leader of the assassins moved to kill his prey with a single move but it soon became clear that the loudmouth had taken too much time with his little speech.

The young man moved to the side and, with a bit of weakness, managed to roll to his feet.

This shocked both him and the lead assassin as both of them had presumed that the teenager had been defeated and was only awaiting death, but clearly that was not the case. Looking through his camera lens, he watched as the damage from the multiple close proximity explosions healed up until only blood remained to hint at what had been there previously. INCREDIBLE! He had been so sure that the young man had been killed or mortally wounded by the suicidal assault but the regenerative powers he possessed were truly amazing. Explosions such as the ones the teenager had suffered would have been enough to do serious damage to all but armored vehicles and all they had done was temporarily immobilize the one they'd been used against. Had the damage actually been what had kept the young man down or had the wind simply been knocked from his lungs?

Either way he was now more than certain that his superiors would be thrilled when he showed them the footage.

"You're not going to hurt ANYONE, bub!" the young man snarled. "In fact, I hope you said your prayers before coming out tonight, 'cause you're going to need'em!"

The young man charged the lead assassin, claws ready to strike, and the assassin reacted moments later by executing a potent fire spell. A pillar of fire erupted beneath the charging teenager but any damage it did was only temporary since the healing ability the young man had quickly repaired the damage. It didn't stop the charge and only barely managed to slow it down, so the assassin fired off another spell, no doubt hoping that it'd fare better. A lightning bolt appeared out of nowhere from above, striking its target enough to stagger the teen but, even as electricity bounced around the immediate area for a bit, the effects were only temporary. In the end the assassin looked about ready to withdraw and plan his kill anew but by then it was too late for, with a savage roar, the young man finally reached the killer.

"RRAAAGGGHHHH!"

The young man yelled as he plunged both sets of claws into the assassin's body.

However this was not the end but rather the beginning because, with an impressive show of strength, the teen pulled his arms away from each other, cutting further the killer's body and the one who'd looked victorious a few minutes ago had been sliced in half. With that done the confrontation was over and somehow this wondrous being had managed to survive a battle against thirty assassins dedicated to his demise. True, the clothes the young man had been wearing were now barely enough to keep from violating certain public nudity laws but that was hardly relevant as far as he was concerned.

Turning off his camera and returning it to the bag he'd been carrying it in, he carefully made his way away from the blood-peppered battlefield towards the docks where his ship would be waiting for him. He had much to report and his superiors would not look kindly on any kind of delay, especially with intel THIS valuable.

True, he hadn't quite gotten ALL the information that usually was put into an undercover report, but he doubted his boss would mind.

NO ONE would mind!

Of this he was certain.

 _ **The Princess Bar, Hours Later, Xander's POV**_

 _Damn asshole assassins!_ he growled as he prepared to close up for the night. _Not only do they cost me a crate of wine but they also ruined the clothes I was wearing when I got dropped into this dimension! The only good thing is that I didn't wear my biker jacket to get the wine!_

He'd managed to get back to the bar easily enough after the fight but he'd had to sneak into his upstairs apartment since he didn't feel like walking through the front door and going up the stairs. It would've raised way too many eyebrows and had people asking questions for weeks that would get annoying really quick. Once he was in his room he quickly disposed of what was left of the clothes on him, thanking whatever deity was listening that they'd stayed on long enough for him to get home. The idea of sneaking back while naked did not appeal to him in the least.

Thankfully he'd seen the wisdom of buying a few extra sets of clothes after arriving in Wutai Village but then it'd only been common sense. The ones he'd worn as a Halloween costume would've gotten old and stinky eventually so, unless he wanted to maintain a fifteen foot buffer zone around himself, it made sense to have something else to change into. Naturally it wasn't anything like typical California clothes or even things he recalled Logan regularly wearing, but rather local fashion that he'd found himself liking. He slipped on a fresh set of pants and a shirt before heading back downstairs to see how the bar had done in his absence while mentally making a note to order another crate of the wine that he'd lost fighting the assassins. Thankfully it wasn't expensive so he wouldn't lose too much money with a repeat order.

"When'd you get back, boss?" Sayuri asked, looking minimally surprised to see him come down the stairs. "And why'd you change clothes?"

"Ran into some trouble getting the wine and it trashed the clothes I used to have on," he replied as he went behind the bar where Daisuke had been subbing for him. "Trashed the bottles, too, so we're going to need to put in another order."

"Is it something we're going to have to worry about?" she asked, sounding a little concerned.

Reasonable.

He'd told both Daisuke and Sayuri that he had a habit of getting into trouble when he'd hired them on and told them that he couldn't guarantee some of it wouldn't come knocking on the bar's front door. He'd do his damndest to get to them if they were in trouble and, if things got really bad, he would do whatever he had to in order to draw as much danger away from them as possible. If it wound up pushing his healing factor to its limits and made him actually BEG for death, he'd bear with it if it kept the people he cared about in this dimension safe. So long as they didn't go for decapitation there was a good chance that he'd physically recover but he couldn't be so sure of his mind. Even if he'd somehow received Logan's memories along with his powers, he doubted it be much help in actually dealing with and recovering from torture.

"No, I think I made it pretty clear that bothering us again would not be conducive to a long and happy future," he replied firmly enough to let her know he'd done so seriously enough to get through even the thickest of skulls. "If they have any sense of self-preservation they'll stay FAR away from me and my friends."

To this Daisuke and Sayuri just looked at each other like they were pondering asking for details before finally deciding that they could do without knowing.

The next few hours went by without any real difficulty, though every other customer came in talking about the devastation and bodies that'd been left behind by his battle. Apparently word was spreading quickly and the entire area was swarming with soldiers as well as Wutai's equivalent to modern crime scene investigators. If scuttlebutt could be trusted no one had been named as responsible for the bloody incident and without an eyewitness it was unlikely that he'd have to worry about it any further. Sure, there were a handful of people who could probably recognize the marks left behind by his claws but, since all of them were subordinate to Godo, he was pretty sure he didn't have to worry. The prince might come to get the details of what happened but, aside from that, he doubted he'd get any prison time for what he'd done.

As it turned out it wasn't until the next day that his friend came calling and, while he looked concerned, he was not upset about what'd happened the previous night.

"So… do you want to tell me why I have bodies and pieces of bodies scattered about the village?" Godo asked, trying to sound conversational but with concern seeping through.

"Just a bunch of unemployed assassins looking to erase the one black mark on their record, aka ME," he replied with equal casualness in his voice. "It was self-defense, plain and simple."

"Self-defense usually only works so long as your life is in real danger of ending," Godo said, pointing out the guideline that most lawyers argued over. "I somehow doubt that was the case with you."

"Self-defense, in my opinion, also extends to friends and family," he said, reaching for a glass before pouring Godo's preferred drink. "Once they'd finished with me or, presuming they gave up on me, they would have come after you and, with thirty of them, your guards would've had a hard time, especially since some of them were suicide bombers. By ending them last night I kept them from coming after you."

"You don't think much of the palace guards, do you?" Godo asked, neither angry nor curious.

"Considering I managed to get in to have a 'talk' with Chi-ryu and escape without being seen, I can't say that they're the best of the best. Besides, with thirty of those lethal specialists coming at you, all it'd have taken was one of them getting through and you'd have been in a serious pinch," he replied, trying to be honest yet polite. "If more than one of them made it to you… no offense but there's no real way to defend against a bomb, especially if you don't know it's coming."

"I guess you're right," Godo conceded reluctantly as he accepted his drink. "Chi-ryu, on the other hand, is doing everything he can to have you arrested since he recognizes your handiwork. Fortunately that's all he has since someone drugged the well water with a sleeping potion putting everyone in the area out for hours. Unless someone thirsty comes forward, I doubt he'll have any justification to bring you in."

"Good. I'd hate to have to rough up whoever got sent," he said, grabbing a bottle of booze, uncorking it and taking a swig.

One of the nice benefits of having a healing factor was that made it hard as hell for him to get drunk and, even if he did get drunk, he'd need to keep drinking in order to stay intoxicated. As such he could enjoy the taste of the various beverages he had to offer his customers without having to worry about turning into Tony.

"And I'd hate to have to come up with reasons to keep father from dropping the entire Wutai army down on you," Godo said with a roll of his eyes. "Still, there shouldn't be too many more of those assassins wandering about. I'll see if I can persuade father to increase the number of troops looking for them so that they don't have time to come after you again."

"Good idea. Seeing as how thirty of them couldn't kill me, any who're left are liable to do something really nuts next time if they're given the chance," he said with a nod of agreement before he took another sip from his bottle.

From there the two of them just discussed the usual things two friends talked about when they got together, from daily events that stood out in their memory to any pretty girls that caught their eye. Granted, he wasn't looking for a girlfriend or anything but that didn't stop him from admiring the beauty of a young lady walking down the street or coming into his bar. A few had even made polite moves on him but he declined with equal politeness, saying things like he was much too busy for a relationship at the moment. Some accepted his rejection gracefully while others gave him the stink eye as he walked away, but nothing major had happened that made him think that he had to rethink his strategy towards women.

Maybe sometime down the line he might think of reentering the dating scene but for now he'd run his business, hang out with Godo when the prince could slip out of the palace and, if he ever got the itch for some action, he'd go out into the wilds to take down some monsters. There was always something to kill out there and parts of them could be sold for quite a bit of money, so it was a win-win situation.

All the while he'd keep an eye out for any sign that Shinra was about to declare war on the place because, as much as he liked Godo, Sayuri, Daisuke, Sadao and Lijuan, he didn't want to get involved in such a bloody affair. Especially since it wouldn't change the outcome of the war, so there really wouldn't be any point to him fighting or even being present. Add to that the horrors his imagination had come up with should Hojo find out about him and it'd be best for everyone if he stayed under Shinra's radar.

He'd enjoy the time he had in Wutai to the fullest and then journey to find some other place that felt like home.

 _ **Midgar, The Under Construction Shinra Tower, Board Room, Professor Isaac Hojo's POV**_

 _ **One Week Later**_

"This had better be worth my time, President Shinra," he said as he took his seat amongst the dullards that ran the other company departments. "I have important work to do at the Nibelheim labs."

"I assure you, Professor, that I would not have summoned you back here unless something had come up that required your specific expertise," President Shinra said reassuringly from his position at the head of the table.

 _Hmph. Whatever the fool considers important will be a mere nuisance to me._ He held his tongue for the time being, though. _Still, I suppose Crescent will be able to handle matters until my return._

Project S was still in the early stages, after all, requiring more tedious lab work than anything truly of interest, but he was loathe to leave even such menial tests in the hands of lesser minds. With such average skills they were barely competent enough to be called assistants and Crescent was only marginally better than them with her delusions that morality had anything to do with science. Still, there was SOME hope that she'd mature into a proper disciple of science and, if she didn't, he was sure he could find some use for her.

"As you all know we have been considering establishing Mako reactors elsewhere in the world and have been sending agents to evaluate certain potential locations. Soldiers were sent to locations in the wilds and covert agents would infiltrate other nations where the possibility of opposition existed," President Shinra explained in his boring manner. "Yesterday the covert agent we sent to the island nation of Wutai returned with some interesting information. Aside from data confirming that the land was rich with both life as well as Mako, he encountered an altercation between a young man and thirty professional assassins."

"What is so interesting about that, President?" Scarlet asked, sounding barely interested in what she'd just heard. "That a single person was slaughtered at the hands of so many trained killers is hardly unexpected."

Even though nothing but feces ever poured from the woman's mouth, he had to agree, just this once, that she had a point. Even the best and brightest among the Shinra troopers would fall when faced with such overwhelming odds, so no random human would fare any better.

"What is interesting about it is that not only did the young man survive the battle but he succeeded in killing every last one of his opponents without a single scratch to show for it afterwards," President Shinra replied, looking quite pleased with what he knew.

"Ridiculous! Even if by some astronomically great odds one man could defeat so many, it would be impossible to emerge completely unharmed," he said, dismissing the C.E.O. of Shinra's words.

The others about the table echoed his position but nothing they said affected the mustached man's grin in the least.

"I honestly didn't think you'd take my word for it. Fortunately the agent who reported this had the presence of mind to record the entire encounter on video." President Shinra pressed a button built into the section of table in front of him. "Watch and draw your own conclusions."

As a section of the wall slid up to reveal a large video screen a recording began to play almost immediately, revealing an open area in some Wutai town. In that open area were thirty armored warriors with faces concealed and wielding various weapons all of which were designed with the intent of killing whatever they were used against. Their target was a young man in his late teens or early twenties clad in a white shirt and pants of some unknown material with not a single sign of fear.

It was fairly unremarkable and certainly not worth being smug about in his opinion.

An eyebrow raised when he saw a trio of blades extend from each of the young man's fists, mildly interesting him but only just. If he was a mind to he could easily design superior implants that served a similar function but such things were so… beneath him. He was a genius, after all, and therefore it only made sense for his achievements to surpass all others, to make all other scientists seem wholly incompetent in comparison, and establish himself as the model all scientists should strive to imitate. Nevertheless, should the young man be captured by Shinra, it could be worth killing some time to inspect his arms to see if he could discern something inspirational from someone else's work.

When the fight began he almost snorted in contempt at the young man's brutish skills and lack of efficiency but he was somewhat interested in the blades themselves. His discerning eyes could see that they were capable of cutting through everything the assassins brought against them with virtually no perceivable resistance. While metal was more Scarlet's field of expertise, he was learned enough in such matters that he could immediately conclude that none of the more common ones had been used in the construction of them. Should the young man be taken into custody he would have to ensure a metallurgical analysis was done on the blades to learn what they were made of. Such metal would prove quite useful once Project S neared its logical conclusion when it came to fashioning a weapon suitable for his masterpiece.

When the recording showed the young man shot with a bullet and an arrow he thought that this would be where it would all end but, in a moment of miracles, he found himself as shocked as the rest of the people in the room, save President Shinra. The wounds actually HEALED! They healed at such an accelerated rate that in seconds there were no visible signs of injury whatsoever. The fact that the young man's movements did not appear to have been impeded either, so it was more than skin deep. This was ASTONISHING! With rapt attention he watched the video footage, scrutinizing every factor, deducing every detail, he could without any additional sources of information.

After a group of assassins blew themselves up in order to slay their target he could hear the others begin asking questions about where the body was but he knew better. Seeing the wounds that had been inflicted on the young man up until then, mentally timing how long it took for each to fully heal, he estimated that such an ability would be up to the task set before it. He was proven correct when, to the shock of everyone else in the room, the young man rose from the ground, the wounds gained from the multiple explosions healing rapidly as he did so, until only his clothes showed signs of damage.

From there the one who was rapidly gaining his interest charged the sole remaining assassin, shrugging off multiple potent magical attacks as he went, impaling the man once he got within range. When his future specimen then used his claws to tear the final assassin in half, it only further intrigued him and cemented what he would insist be done.

"What is he?" Reeve asked, sounding like he was still recovering from what he'd just seen.

"Unknown. He's obviously not a native of Wutai based on his physical characteristics and our analysts have tried to pin down a region based on what could be deduced from the footage without success," President Shinra replied with a bit of consternation in his voice. "I have made it a priority among the Turks to find out more but it will take time for them to find anything of value."

"Hmph. The answer is simple: acquire the specimen and apply the usual interrogation tactics," he said, not understanding why the President was being so roundabout the situation. "Its regenerative capabilities will ensure that it will not perish like lesser ones would and it would allow us to employ more aggressive methods."

"It would be risky. It might also interfere with our future plans for Wutai," Scarlet said, sounding a bit opposed to the idea of capturing the specimen.

"I would think the possibility of endowing our own forces with such formidable regenerative abilities would be worth any risk," he pointed out in a 'you are an idiot' tone. "It would also prove to be quite helpful with my own Project S in the future."

"Hojo has a point, Scarlet. If conflict does occur between Shinra and Wutai, initial projections show us suffering significant losses before achieving victory," President Shinra said, stroking his mustache in thought. "That would lead to a significant reduction in power as well as cost a small fortune to replace. Neither are things I would approve of. The question then becomes how to acquire this young man at minimal risk to us."

"Gya haa haa! I can have a team of specialists prepped within the next forty-eight hours," Heidegger stated with his annoying laugh. "We can arm them for stealth and the strongest tranquilizers we have will be available for their use. Stick the punk with enough of those and he'll drop like a puppet with its strings cut."

"You'll pardon me for being skeptical but the specimen's regenerative abilities likely also afford it a considerable defense against toxins and sedatives," he pointed out like the superior man he was. "It would be unconscious for at best a few hours before shaking off the effects. However I believe I can devise a new tranquilizer within the two days you specified that will keep it unconscious for at least eight hours before the drug will need to be administered again."

"If we acquire this young man, it may spark pursuit by the Wutai military," Scarlet said, still not willing to approve the mission just yet. "It is unlikely that someone so 'remarkable' could live in the capitol city and not be noticed by them. While they are fools not to secure the teenager for themselves, they will not stand by and allow anyone to make off with him to possible be turned against them."

"Shinra has ways of ensuring that pursuit becomes futile, Scarlet," President Shinra said with a smile of decisiveness. "Prepare your operatives, Heidegger. Choose the best and make them understand the importance of this mission. Ensure that a type F load out is sent with them. As for you, Hojo, the labs are at your disposal. Have your new tranquilizer ready by the time the operatives are ready for departure."

"Of course, President Shinra," he said with a smile that never failed to invoke fear in others.

Already his mind was aflutter with the tests he'd perform on the new specimen and how he could apply what he would discover to his other projects. As he left to prepare a suitably potent tranquilizer, he suspected that there might be even more amazing things to be learned from his future specimen than was made evident in the video footage. He couldn't help but chuckle at what awaited him and so he would do his part, hoping that the laughing horse's men wouldn't bungle things up.

He would be most put out if they did manage to fail in their assigned task.

 _ **The Princess Bar in Wutai**_

 _ **Three Days Later**_

 _ **Xander's POV**_

 _I hope Sayuri and Daisuke are enjoying their all-expenses paid 'vacation',_ he thought as he watched the evening crowd of bar patrons finish up their last round of the night. _'Cause I don't know if I can handle this for too much longer._

Indeed, while he had managed on his own in the beginning, the flow of customers had been relatively low then. Now, though, the total number of people that dropped coin at his bar had more than quadrupled so at the moment he was VERY busy, with less than a minute at a time to take a breath. Still, he'd managed to keep the orders straight and served them with polite professionalism, so things were going reasonably well. None of the troublemakers had shown up in the last three days and he'd received his latest shipment of alcohol without incident.

He wanted to take things at face value.

He wanted to believe that he could let his guard down.

But his trained instincts told him that at best he was experiencing the calm before the storm so he had to keep an eye out for any portents or signs of what'd come gunning for him next. The sooner he got an idea of what'd be coming his way, the quicker he could prepare to overcome whatever tried to gut him next.

He just hoped that whatever the new crisis was he wouldn't have to face it solo, 'cause while he'd managed against thirty assassins, it hadn't been fun.

It'd been terrible trying to keep going despite all the bombs, lightning and fire they'd sent his way in an effort to kill him, but he'd known that if he didn't keep moving it'd only get worse. Wolverine wasn't invulnerable and, even if killing him was beyond the ability of the assassins, the pain he'd be put through as a result of their attempts was not something a sane person volunteered for. If something or someone stronger than the assassins came gunning for him, he had little doubt that he would fall. Assassins, by trade, preferred to kill their targets in as few moves as possible, ideally in one stroke, so they weren't suitable for long-term battles or conflicts where the element of surprise had been lost. His fights back in Sunnydale had always been more direct in nature but no less reliant on finishing the job as quickly as possible. It'd been made clear to him with the first few vamp fights he'd had that if he didn't plunge the wooden stake in quickly, he'd wind up getting his ass kicked.

If someone more adept at direct assaults and combat came for him, he'd be completely at their mercy with only their own complacency to give him any hope.

That was why foreknowledge of what might be coming for him was so valuable: if he had info far enough in advance, he could either set up a plan to maximize his odds of victory or flee before trouble arrived.

Given the fact that he hadn't known how much time he'd have he had come up with an excuse to get his two employees out of the capitol for a period of two weeks. He'd wanted to do more, to make their vacation last a month or more, so that they'd be safe from danger, but he'd known that they'd clue into what he was trying if he stated he'd spend that much money on them. The bar might be doing well but they had a good grasp of how well off it was financially, so they'd only have gotten suspicious if he'd committed a considerable amount of gil to their vacation. Thus he would have to accept the two week limit on the vacation and hope that the trouble with his name on it didn't waste any time rearing its ugly head.

If it showed up after their return… he would do whatever he had to in order to make sure that he was the only one to deal with the danger. Whether that meant surrendering to whoever had a bone to pick with him or committing suicide to eliminate the need for violence he didn't know but he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

Hearing the bell he'd hung over the door ring announcing new arrivals, he looked up to watch a man and woman enter. They were dressed in casual clothes but not local ones and they definitely weren't of the Asian persuasion like the people of Wutai. However this wasn't what had his attention because, while not common, the island nation did occasionally have visitors from overseas, ranging from tourists to merchants. No, what had him keeping an eye on the duo was the way they carried themselves and how physically fit they appeared to be from what he could see.

They'd been in combat and they didn't consider Wutai to be friendly territory at the moment.

This didn't bode well because Wutai pretty much kept to itself and, in all the time he'd lived there, he'd never heard of them creating bad blood with a foreign power. To consider it enemy territory could only mean that the duo were planning on causing some trouble that'd potentially bring much of the nation down on their heads.

 _Wait a minute! Maybe I'm overthinking things,_ he thought, not wanting to believe the worst case scenario. _Maybe it's not all of Wutai they're planning on mixing it up with. Maybe it's just me. This is my bar, after all._

While this wasn't necessarily a good thing, it did downgrade the threat from national to just personal, making it decidedly easier to deal with.

Nevertheless, he needed to find out what they had in mind and where the action was going to happen so, picking up two bottles of the most popular booze he had, he trotted over to the table the duo had claimed.

"Welcome to The Princess Bar. My name's Xander, I'm the owner and manager of the place, and since you don't seem to be locals I suggest you start off your night with something like this," he said as he set a bottle in front of each of them. "It's one of my top sellers and bar policy says for first timers everything's thirty percent off. Just for the first night, of course. I'd go bankrupt if I let it go any longer."

"Thanks," the man said with a nod of acknowledgment.

The guy had about as much personality as a brick wall.

Hopefully he wouldn't hit as hard as one.

Taking a brief sniff, he could he immediately picked up on gunpowder and an oil used for the upkeep of firearms, likely meaning either one of them had a gun on them or had recently handled one. His mind could come up with a few innocent possible reasons for the strangers to have handled a gun but they were outnumbered by the shady reasons popping like popcorn in his brain. A firefight would put the rest of the bar patrons in harm's way, which meant he needed to get them out of the bar but in a way that wouldn't raise any alarms with the two newcomers.

"No problem! Now take a look through the menu to see if you'd like anything to eat with your drinks," he said, doing a decent job at making it look like he suspected nothing. "I'll be back in five minutes to take your orders if you find something you like."

With that he trotted behind the bar and then passed through the door to the kitchen, leaving the line of sight of anyone in the main area of the bar. Once he was sure he was far enough away that even his footsteps couldn't be heard he began to put together the ingredients of his off the cuff plan to remove civilians from the line of fire. He couldn't just go to every table but the one the newcomers were sitting at and quietly whisper 'leave' since that'd be a little too suspicious if the man and woman really were up to no good. Leaving the bar wouldn't work out too well either since they'd either wait for him to return or seize everything he owned, leaving him with nothing to work with and likely catch up to him later.

Instead he'd try something a little more theatrical.

 _Gotta make sure this'll be all smoke and no fire,_ he thought as he poured the ingredients into the sturdiest pot he owned. _Be a real pain in the ass if I accidentally burned my own bar down._

When he was finished he lit a match and tossed it into the pot and, after a momentary flare of flame, smoke began to billow out, spreading further with every passing second. Knocking over some pots to support the deception he ran out of the kitchen into the main area a few minutes later, a look of controlled panic on his face.

"EVERYONE OUT NOW!" he exclaimed to get everyone's attention. "The kitchen's caught on fire and spreading fast! I'm gonna try to get it under control but for your own safety please exit the building in a calm but quick manner."

He was relieved to see the people following his instructions, including the newcomers, but as he'd anticipated they were sending looks of consideration his way. No doubt they were trying to determine whether or not there really was a fire or not, as well as if they should remain behind just in case it turned out to be the latter. Not feeling particularly like sticking around to find out what the man and woman determined he went back into the kitchen, trying not to let his enhanced senses get overwhelmed by the smoke. He made some more noise to make it sound like he was doing everything he could to put out the 'fire' but, when he judged the theatrics to be enough, he put a lid on the pot to deprive the contents of oxygen. Then, in order to get things happening on HIS timetable, he moved over to the kitchen window, opening it quietly until it was wide enough for him to slip through. If things went according to plan the dumb duo would catch on that the fire was a fraud and likely do a quick search of the building as well as the immediate area for him.

THAT would be when he'd turn the hunters into the hunted, trailing behind them wherever they went until they reached their base of operations.

Once there he'd either confront them directly in order to find out who they really were and what they wanted or he'd just stake the place out keeping an eye on them from a distance. Depending on what he found he might decide to go to ground until they lost interest in him or go in claws a slashing to put an end to their threat once and for all.

Slipping through the window, he made it all of three steps before his senses picked up something that had him freezing in his tracks.

The duo hadn't come alone.

Taking deep sniffs this time he managed to pierce through the stink of the smoke he'd just been submerged in and detected tools of war. Guns, grenades and other things that he knew didn't belong on any civilian. To make it worse he was smelling it coming from multiple sources, six to be precise, and they had him surrounded in a crescent moon wall going from left to right. Had the two in the bar just been meant to herd him in this direction? Had this group just been covering its bases by guarding the rear of his bar in case he tried to make a run for it? Either way it looked like he had to make a decision because they were beginning to move in and, if he waited too long, the only way he'd get away from them would be if he fought his way through them.

Going with his instincts he charged forward like a football player, determined to deke and dodge past the opposition to run all the way to the end zone for a touchdown. The enemy line was still spread thin enough that, if he was quick enough, he could make it through the gap in between escaping both capture as well as a way to avoid fighting. Just because he could fight and stood a chance of winning didn't mean he was some fight fanatic who loved mixing it up with whoever gave him an excuse to throw down. Until he knew what he was dealing with it'd be better to escape so he could come back and deal with them on his terms rather than the enemy's.

He got down his first length or so of alley before he saw the first of them and, despite the concealing coat the man wore, he could see the military gear beneath it as well as the odd looking gun that was beginning to be directed towards him. The clothes, the weapon, it all made him draw one very undesirable conclusion: Shinra. The outfit and the weapon weren't anything like those worn by the warriors of Wutai, whether they were soldiers or bandits, so they weren't local. That meant that they came from someplace else and he didn't know of any other power on the planet he was on that had its own military.

For some reason they'd singled him out.

Depending on how much they'd learned about him, things could be VERY bad.

 _Looks like going to ground it is,_ he thought as he picked up the pace, determined to get to the enemy before a shot could be fired.

As he closed to within ten feet he brought a fist back and prepared to deliver it to the jaw of his foe.

As he got to within five feet he felt confident that his blow would land before the barrel of the gun could be positioned properly to get a shot off at him.

Too bad when he got to within three feet someone intervened.

One prick.

Then two more pricks.

Then before he could even think to wonder about the cause the world seemed to fall away from him, casting him into a black abyss, until he could only barely perceive a light. The light was all he could perceive of the outside world, none of his other senses could reach that far, but it was enough to see one dark shape appear at the edges of the light after another.

"Amateur," a distant voice spoke as though it was at the edge of his hearing range and thus barely perceivable. "Only thought about the threats he could sense instead of the one he couldn't."

"Maybe but you heard Gya haa haa," another voice said with a tone of authority. "He's a top priority target to be treated as extremely dangerous. Get the restraints on him and put him in the van. Our window of escape is a narrow one, even with the help of our mysterious benefactor."

"Understood, sir," the first voice said before the group of shapes began to move some towards him and others out of the light.

He fought, tried to will himself back to the light where he could do something, but whatever had cast him into the deep pit he was now in it was DAMN potent stuff. Willpower had no effect over it and that meant he had no choice but to wait until it wore off before he could take action.

"Lights out, buddy," one of shapes said before a jarring shock caused the light to disperse like smoke in the wind.

Then he knew nothing.


	4. Descent Into Inhuman Darkness

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the copyrighted materials contained herein. They are the rightful property of their respective creators and/or associated companies. I make no money from this whatsoever and I have no intention of changing this at any point in the future. I write because it's fun and because there are those who enjoy reading my stories. Therefore I would appreciate it if no legal action was taken against me. I can promise you that whatever you managed to get from me wouldn't cover even a fifth of your legal fees.

 _ **Wutai Royal Palace**_

 _ **Prince Godo's POV**_

"Report Commander Gorki," Emperor Kisaragi commanded from his throne with his usual imperial tone.

"We have completed a search of the rubble but did not find any signs that someone was still inside when it burned to the ground," Commander Gorki replied after bowing with great respect. "No bodies, charred or otherwise. I have Staniv conducting a search of the capitol for the culprits responsible."

"You are certain that the fire was not the result of an accident? Perhaps a moment of carelessness on the part of Mister Howlett set the place ablaze," Chi-ryu proposed condescendingly from his position to the right of the platform on which the throne sat.

"With all due respect, Advisor Chi-ryu, I find your estimation of Mister Howlett to be… inaccurate," he said from his smaller throne to the left of his father. "The owner has been in business for over a year without incident. The likelihood that he would get 'careless' after all that time is unlikely."

"No one is immune to carelessness, young prince, regardless of how much time has passed," Chi-ryu sagely said, as though speaking to a naïve student.

"Too true," he said with implied meaning. "The consequences of carelessness can be quite severe and the odds of escaping them more than once low indeed. Let us hope that if Mister Howlett is still alive that he proves himself wiser in the future."

A slight widening of the eyes confirmed that the advisor was smart enough to understand that he hadn't forgotten the man's actions from so long ago. Ever since that day, he'd done his best to monitor his advisor's actions in order to ensure that no further abuses of power occurred, but there'd been times when other obligations had forced him to take his eyes off the pompous windbag. In fact there had been one dinner with his father and a prominent noble recently where he'd been unable to discern what Chi-ryu had been up to. He still had his allies in the palace sniffing about to learn more but he truly didn't think that the man was so stupid that he'd try something as bold as this. The man was never one to get his own hands dirty if it could be avoided and tended to favor tactics that offered him the safety of plausible deniability. Burning down the home of a man who'd embarrassed him and potentially kidnapping him or killing him was not Chi-ryu's style.

Still, it was not wise to let the man bask in his bit of 'good fortune' any more than absolutely necessary.

"With all due respect to Advisor Chi-ryu, your highness, I do not believe that the fire was started due to a kitchen mishap," Commander Gorki stated with his usual discipline. "Based on the remnants, I believe it started well away from the stove and rather close to the window. Unless Mister Howlett intentionally set fire to his business, I am afraid we must consider the possibility of foul play."

"Then we must determine who had the motive, means and opportunity to do such a thing," he said, turning to his father to show his resolve on the matter. "If they have captured Mister Howlett then he must be rescued and if they killed him someplace else then they must be brought to justice for murder."

"While I admire the young prince's passion on the matter, your highness, I believe it would be unwise to overly commit resources to such a venture," Chi-ryu said while bowing respectfully to Emperor Kisaragi. "Given the stories about Mister Howlett's prowess in battle, if these unknown people succeeded in capturing him then they must be even more formidable than he is. Our own forces would suffer significant losses both in trying to rescue the young man and in trying to bring his killer to justice. Should we really sacrifice so much just for one man?"

"If these unknowns are as dangerous as you fear, Advisor Chi-ryu, then it would be foolish to remain ignorant of who they are and what they are capable of," he said, trying to argue in favor of action rather than inaction. "If they one day decided to target someone more… important to Wutai, it would be best if we were prepared for them."

"There are other ways to gain valuable information on potential threats rather than direct confrontation," Chi-ryu said with a narrowing of his eyes. "However since I sense that you are unwilling to let this go, I offer a compromise: allow me to dispatch a team from the Royal Investigations Bureau. They can search more discreetly than our soldiers can and have their own personal network of informants that hear a great many things. If they are successful we may learn much and if they are killed we will have only lost four men instead of forty."

"And if they're slain we will be no closer to finding out who the enemy is and Mister Howlett, if they have him, will that much harder to rescue," he pointed out, not satisfied with a mere four men.

"Send your four men, Advisor Chi-ryu," Emperor Kisaragi said before anyone could say anything more. "However make sure that they are SKILLED men. While Mister Howlett might not have been born in Wutai, he rescued my son from assassins and aided in the exposure of a traitor. I may be unwilling to commit more than four men to finding him but I will NOT taint my honor by abandoning him entirely or by sending incompetents to search for him."

"I would NEVER allow such a thing to happen, your highness," Chi-ryu declared, sounding almost sincere. "I assure you the agents dispatched will be imminently qualified. It would take people of incredible skill or impressive number to detect them, much less kill them."

"Then make it so and have them report to me DIRECTLY when they return," Emperor Kisaragi ordered before taking on a countenance that chilled everyone who saw it. "I will be most… displeased… if they are late in making their report for WHATEVER reason."

"I shall leave orders with the palace gates to have them escorted to you immediately upon their return," Chi-ryu said, for once sounding like 'creatively' interpreting his orders was not something he'd attempt.

With those words the advisor bowed with respect before striding quickly towards the door to the throne room, obviously intent on carrying out his orders immediately.

"Do not think me ignorant of the visits you made to Mister Howlett's bar, my son," Emperor Kisaragi said without turning his head. "I was content to permit this so long as you exercised a degree of discretion with your appearance and your identity. However, to deploy soldiers and spies on the scale you would no doubt prefer would make many wonder why the imperial royal family would expend such an effort to help a mere bar owner. It would draw attention, to him and to us, that no one would wish to have focused upon themselves."

These words tempered him somewhat. While he didn't like the entanglements that came with being a member of the royal family, that didn't mean he didn't understand the need for them. When you were a member of the imperial royal family, certain responsibilities came with the blood and, as much as they chaffed, he would not bring shame to his father by disregarding them. As much as he considered Xander a friend, he reluctantly conceded that sending out the troops to find and rescue him would only send the ones responsible to ground. In their position he would have ordered at least one ally to remain in the capitol city in order to monitor or impede pursuit. It would be easier for four men to slip away than forty and, assuming that Chi-ryu didn't lie when he said he'd be putting skilled men on the job, it would increase the odds of Xander being found.

"I understand, father," he said respectfully, nodding his head in the man's direction. "I just hope that Mister Howlett doesn't wind up paying the price for our… caution."

"So do I, my son," Emperor Kisaragi said in an unusually sympathetic tone of voice. "So do I."

 _ **Royal Investigation Bureau Offices**_

 _ **Advisor Chi-Ryu's POV**_

"Do you understand your orders?" he asked the leader of the team standing before him.

"Yes," the man replied. "We are to locate the forces that kidnapped Mister Howlett and facilitate their departure from Wutai."

"And the reason you are being ordered to do this?" he asked in order to ensure that the team would not waver.

"Mister Howlett is an unknown that has shown a tendency to attract trouble," the man replied without a change in composure. "So far that trouble has only come for him but, if it escalates, it could come to endanger all of Wutai. Therefore he must be removed in order to preserve our country's peace."

"And on the matter of witnesses?" he asked, knowing that this would be the tipping point for most people.

"Their sacrifice for Wutai will be long remembered," the man said, still not showing a single crack in his composure.

"You are a loyal agent, my friend," he said with a reassuring grin. "Your hard work will be rewarded."

"Thank you, sir," the man said and with a bow of respect he led his men out of the shed that had been chosen for their meeting point.

It would all be over with in less than two days.

 _ **A Shinra Chopper**_

 _ **Hojo's POV**_

It was not often that a new project ensnared his interest so but he had to admit that Subject X was doing just that.

Even as he looked out of the window of the Shinra chopper as it descended towards the Gongaga Mako reactor, he recalled the reports that he'd received thus far. His sedative had proven quite effective initially but, assuming the barely adequate agent's report could be trusted, the subject had actually begun to show a developing resistance to it. Considering the fact that he'd actually put some effort in devising one specially designed to render it pointless to use either heal or restore materia, that was impressive. He'd already finished a rough draft of a new sedative and, once he got to the labs hidden beneath the reactor, he'd be able to put it together. While he would not require it for all of his experiments, it would prove useful to stifle the annoying screaming the subjects often did both during and after he worked on them.

Feeling the bump of the chopper's landing gear touching down, he watched as one of the drones opened the door before exiting and then he followed.

It was predictable that their arrival had been scheduled for after sundown in order to avoid attracting the attention of the insects that lived close by. Nevertheless he was so looking forward to what he could learn from the subject that he'd let the idiots play their little games so long as they didn't take too long. Walking towards the reactor, he mildly hoped that President Shinra had not slacked off on the upkeep of the labs because he would be quite put out if he had to wait for updated equipment and restocked resources. `

Once they were inside they made their way to the elevator that, as far as the workers knew, only went to three levels.

Unless they knew to look for the hidden set of buttons kept in the last place a civilian would think to look.

If they did find the buttons it'd give them access to over fifteen sublevels containing both various laboratories as well storage rooms for many of Shinra's more questionable assets. Anything from people who'd never see the light of day again to items that, if their existence in Shinra's possession, became known, would lead to the largest lynch mob in history being formed. Naturally even those employees of Shinra were only allowed access to floors their clearance levels permitted and those that strayed… facial recognition software attached to automated turrets were quite effective.

Effective at discouraging the curious and the stupid from poking their noses where they didn't belong, that is.

He didn't need to tell the trooper what level to take him to, the orders were given by that idiot Heidegger, so he entered the elevator with him and let his thoughts go to more important things as they descended. Obviously the most important thing to determine was the full extent of Subject X's regenerative abilities, since knowing that would play a key part in how the experiments that followed would proceed. Oh, once he was finished with the experiments that required that the subject be alive he'd terminate it so that he could begin the exploratory surgery, the dissection and the extensive disassembly but that would happen later. By the time he was finished, he would know everything worth knowing about Subject X and then he could begin dreaming up ways of incorporating it into his existing projects while dreaming up new ones.

He'd give President Shinra something to pacify the fat fool, maybe soldiers that could heal at three times the normal rate, and explain away any 'disappointments' as the complexity of subject's biology.

The idiot never questioned the excuses he provided so long as he threw the man a bone from time to time and promised that he would EVENTUALLY get his human-cetra hybrid that would lead them to the Promised Land. Indeed, all he often needed to do was piece together a half-assed excuse with the words 'Promised Land' fitted in and he'd get whatever he wanted. For the moment, though, Project S was still years away from producing a viable specimen but he'd be able to divide his time equally between Subject X and that without too much of a delay. If he could impart even HALF of the regenerative capabilities of his new specimen onto Project S, then he will have achieved something NO ONE would be able to surpass.

He would be a GOD among men.

When they finally reached the desired floor he could feel the anticipation growing within him made him feel impatient as well and it was only growing in strength. He was almost willing to just push his 'escort' aside and run to the examination room where the specimen was currently restrained, but that would be undignified for a man of his stature. Thus he tolerated their slogging pace, albeit reluctantly as they turned at the right corners and walked down the correct length of hallways until they reached the doors labeled 'EXAM ROOM 12-B'. Watching as the doors parted, a genuine smile blossomed on his face as his eyes fell upon Subject X lying restrained on the metal table and still unconscious.

"You've done your jobs, now go," he said dismissively as he moved to the forefront. "Go back to Heidegger so he can pat you on the head like the good little dogs you are."

He heard them grumbling but that didn't matter to him as he forced everything irrelevant from his mind and instead picked up the first tool he would use to begin collecting data: A simple hypodermic needle. With it he would extract a blood sample from the specimen, after which he would extract examples of other bodily fluids. It was important to establish a baseline for Subject X's physiology in order to properly quantify whatever changes occurred as a result of his efforts. Once the baseline was established he would begin administering an assortment of toxins, potions and chemicals in order to measure how long it took for the specimen's regenerative abilities to purge them. As tedious as it'd be for him, he would start using amounts that would kill an ordinary human and then increase them until it became clear that another increase in dosage would kill the specimen. After that he would begin using blades and other crude implements to time the wounds took to heal with the targeted areas, ranging from non-fatal to almost instantly fatal. Then finally he would use various materia with destructive properties, starting with the weakest spells before finishing shy of the ones that almost certainly would overwhelm the specimen's regeneration ability.

Once the limits of the regenerative ability had been established and the periodic samples conclusively examined… then the real fun would begin.

Then, of course, there was the unknown metal that made up the specimen's claws and potentially more of the man's skeleton. He had reviewed the recording Shinra's spy had come back with and there had been a few moments in it where there'd been signs that the weapon had been either deflected or stopped entirely when it should have done more damage. Did that mean that only the locations struck were protected by the metal or was it the entire skeletal system? If it turned out to be the former then it'd be all too easy to extract a sample of the metal but, if it turned out to be the latter… it would be more difficult.

Fortunately there were a multitude of cutting implements, ranging from simple hammers and blades to cutting lasers, along with a variety of others still in Shinra R&D. One of them would likely prove sufficient to obtain a sample of the metal for analysis and, once he knew what it was, he could begin formulating potential uses for it. The obvious option was that, if a sufficient quantity could be located, then it could be used to create weapons perhaps even one for when Project S reached completion. Another possibility was a method to contain or restrain certain dangerous specimens that at the moment could not be controlled due to the limits of Shinra resources.

Indeed, he foresaw a veritable cornucopia of discovery in Subject X that would help fill the time he waited for tests attached to Project S to reach completion.

There was nothing he loved more than aiding in the furtherance of scientific progress.

For a true scientist that was the only worthy goal they had.

The only one they needed.

 _ **Weeks Later**_

 _ **Xander's POV**_

"AAAHHHH!" he cried out as acid was poured onto his right arm. "I'M GOING TO FUCKIN' GUT YOU!"

It was a real threat, one he had every intention of carrying out once he got the chance, but like the others he'd uttered, the slimy scientist just ignored him. Didn't mean he'd stop issuing them because, even if they didn't inspire fear in the man's heart like he wanted, it helped him keep his fury at an all-time high.

Fury was the only painkiller he had available to him at the moment, so he was making the most of it.

He'd awoken from his drugged slumber to find himself both seriously restrained as well as completely naked, much to his embarrassment, and after a testing of the metal restraints he found himself quite unable to escape. With that no longer an option he'd looked around the room he'd found himself in for clues as to who'd abducted him while also finding out just how difficult it'd be for him to escape. While the lab hadn't been set up in a rush, it was also clear from the pipes he'd been able to spot that the structure hadn't originally been designed as a scientific laboratory. It'd been made to be something else and merely had a lab installed in it afterwards. Whether this would aid in his escape or hinder it he didn't know but hopefully it meant that the owner hadn't been meticulous with plugging any holes in their security.

It'd only been an hour after he'd regained consciousness that he'd first seen the man who currently was watching the flesh on his right arm grow back. He'd gone fishing for the usual bits of info: who was he, where were they and what was going on. For a long time, though, the man refused to even acknowledge his presence, preferring to look through scattered pieces of paper as well as into nearby microscopes. It was only when he brought out his 'annoy the brainy guy' A game that he finally got a reply but he did he soon came to wish that he'd remained ignorant.

The man's name was Professor Isaac Hojo.

HOJO!

He was in the clutches of a true blue mad scientist responsible for the creation of Sephiroth as well as god knew what else and, considering his 'unique' nature, he'd known instantly what his future held.

He wasn't quite sure how much time had passed since that day, sporadic sessions of torture masquerading as scientific experiments tended to muddle the memory, but he did know that the man had put him through hell like he'd never known existed. Even Tony Harris at his worst never reached the level of pain that Hojo was accomplishing with his experiments and he honestly didn't know whether he'd last one more day or somehow manage one more month. Rage was helping him push the pain away but it still took its toll on his mind and not in a good way. It might've been blurry but he could swear that his five senses were playing tricks on him because one second he could see or smell something and then it was gone as though it'd never been there in the first place. He'd dismissed them as temporary effects at first, something that'd blow over during one of the rest periods, but when they happened even long after the pain had faded, that was his first clue that he was cracking up.

If Hojo kept going with his efforts, he'd likely fall to pieces entirely, being unable to distinguish fiction from reality.

The problem with that idea was that there was never a moment when he wasn't firmly restrained and, while Hojo hadn't done anything to keep him from popping his claws, his hands didn't have the range of motion to do any damage to the table/chair he was in. How Shinra had managed to design a perfect way of restraining him he didn't know but he knew escape wouldn't be possible until someone slipped up with his restraints. If he could get even a single arm free, he could cut his way free in more ways than one and go to ground until the Wutai war began and Shinra had bigger things to deal with than searching for him. He doubted that they'd give up forever, probably just put finding him on shelf until after the war, but it'd give him time to turn himself into the best there is at what he did.

He might not consciously retain anything from Wolverine, he had more than enough evidence to support the theory that his subconscious muscle memory did.

All he needed to do was figure out a way to bring that knowledge, that skill, to the surface so he could use it whenever he wanted to and Shinra's days would be numbered.

"Impressive. Truly impressive," Hojo said as the last of the regeneration finished, leaving no sign that acid had ever touched his skin. "I theorize that complete submergence in acid would be required in order to remove all of the flesh down to the bone. Merely pouring it on cannot counter the rate at which your body repairs itself."

"Try it and I flay you alive before I kill you," he growled, looking at the man right in the eyes, conveying all the hate and fury he could.

"…I'd hoped that you would have realized by now, Subject X, that I care not for anything you say that does not pertain to your unique physiology," Hojo said with some exasperation as he jotted something down on a notepad he'd put down close by. "Continue to interfere with my work by issuing pointless threats and I will introduce a potent paralytic into your I.V."

Right then he was SO tempted to defy the man just to piss the man off.

So it was something of a surprise when he grudgingly decided to hold his tongue since the idea of not being able to move at all wasn't something he liked.

"Better," Hojo said as he finished writing on the notepad.

As the man walked out of his field of view he resumed what he'd been doing anytime he thought that the bastard wasn't looking in his direction. He surveyed the room for anything he could use to escape or at least return some of the suffering he'd experienced since first waking up back upon the people responsible. He knew the restraints were the first step but what to do after he got out of them needed to be planned out as well. Just going with 'pop the claws and kill everyone' was not what he called a good plan. It was more like the sort of plan Buffy would probably go with if someone pissed her off badly enough and she had Adamantium claws. If they had more of the drug they used to knock him out in the first place, all it'd take would be a single confirmed hit and he'd be right back where he started. Taking Hojo hostage would definitely keep any Shinra security force back but he'd have to keep an eye out for any sharpshooters.

Depending on who was calling the shots, they'd probably try to have a sniper take him down the second he provided them with a clear target.

It wouldn't matter if the shot only slowed him down because their objective no doubt would be to provide an opportunity for Hojo to get away. That meant making him loosen his grip enough for the madman to pull himself free and run for the safety of his 'saviors'. A few well-placed shots designed to rob his arms of strength while another knocked him on his ass… that would be all it'd take in the end. As such he needed a way to snag their attention once he made it close enough to the surface that no one would even THINK about keeping him from getting away.

 _Maybe whatever pipes I'm seeing here are part of a Mako reactor,_ he thought as he considered Shinra's preferred camouflage for hiding their secret labs. _I cut the right places, it shows signs of going boom, they might drop everything to save their own skins or get things under control._

Then again, depending on how far the Mako reactor is from a populated area, he might want to save blowing the thing as an absolute last resort. He wasn't about to sacrifice innocent lives to ensure his own safe escape.

"Now that you have cleared the list of acids I selected I think it's time we move on to something a little more… interesting," Hojo said as he came back into view holding a needle with an unidentifiable fluid. "Suspended in this fluid is a particularly nasty variation of a virus that has been known to eat flesh all the way down to the bone. True, the process usually takes place over the course of several weeks but I've managed to make a few improvements. In an ordinary human this new virus can do the same as the old one over the course of seven days. I wonder how it will react when it comes into contact with your regeneration ability. Let's find out."

With that the mad scientist inserted the needle into one of his major arteries and pressed down on the plunger, forcing its contents into his body.

For a moment he felt nothing but then a tingle that crept through his body like an army of ants on the march crawling through his veins.

Then the pain began and screaming soon followed.

 _ **Shinra Building**_

 _ **Midgar**_

 _ **President Shinra's POV**_

He waited along with the rest of the Shinra board of directors for Professor Hojo's transmission from the lab beneath the Gongaga Mako reactor.

It had been a month since Mister Howlett had been captured and brought there so the time had come to see if their gambit had been worth it. Thus far their informants in Wutai had not detected any sign that the young man's disappearance had been caused by Shinra. The prince of the emperor was pressing quite hard to find his 'friend', eventually going so far so as to have troops begin a search outside the towns and cities, but naturally they wouldn't find anything. Efforts continued to assess the military potential of Wutai as well as identify key points that would have to be taken if 'negotiations' proved ineffective. He still had high hopes that the incentives he was having prepared in overcoming the emperor's foolish honor would work since war was quite a costly bit of business. If he could avoid it then that would be good but it was a basic truth of business that you had to spend money to make money and the benefits that came with getting access to Wutai would make the war worth it.

Especially if it led to the Promised Land that all the legends indicated was a fertile land and that meant rich with Mako energy on a level found nowhere else.

While his company had found deposits of the substance throughout the world, they were modest deposits and it wasn't unreasonable to think that they would run dry within his lifetime. If his company was going to prosper and grow in power, it needed a large, sustainable source that would last long into the future until the time of his great grandson. By that time he had confidence that his bloodline will have found a way to either find a synthetic substitute or an alternative that would prove just as lucrative.

 _I hope that Hojo has some good news,_ he thought as he watched the screen indicate that a communications connection was about to be established. _If we can imbue Shinra troops with Mister Howlett's regenerative abilities then no force on the planet will be able to stand against us._

As Hojo's face appeared on the screen, he took the almost glowing look of excitement to be a good sign and one of progress.

"I trust you have good news for me, Professor Hojo?" he asked, keeping his tone even and guarded as he waited for a reply.

"Indeed I do, Mister President," Hojo replied adding an excited tone to his expression. "Mister Howlett… words cannot describe what I have learned from Subject X. We are on the precipice of a new age."

"Then you've learned the nature of his regeneration ability?" he asked, keeping his interest under lock and key.

"Indeed. It would appear that there is a unique gene in his DNA that has given him the ability to heal from virtually any injury. Lacerations, burns, poisons, toxins, materia and diseases are all ultimately useless against him," Hojo replied as images of a DNA chain appeared beside his face. "The longest it took to for him to completely recover was one day."

"Impressive. VERY impressive," he said as he looked at the rest of the people present in the room. "Can this ability be replicated? Copied onto others?"

"Oh, I believe we have the potential to do much more than that, Mister President," Professor Hojo replied, his happy grin growing into a smile. "It is my belief that by replicating and introducing this gene into host bodies they will gain abilities potentially even more formidable than Subject X's powers."

An interesting turn and not the answer he was looking for but he was willing to give the head of his science research division a little leeway. "Go on," he said, hoping that the man he was looking at hadn't gotten sidetracked like he sometimes did.

"Based on my analysis of the gene, I believe that the abilities that manifest in the host will greatly depend on their unique genetic structure. It may be possible to nudge the variables into a desired direction but in the beginning we will not know what abilities the hosts will have until they manifest," Hojo explained, not sounding concerned about the unpredictability he was revealing.

"What's the point of giving people powers if we can't control what they are?" Scarlett asked, sounding quite skeptical and dismissive.

Not surprising since, if Hojo succeeded in giving Shinra forces powers far beyond those of mortal human beings, then her own work would be in jeopardy. As head of Weapons Development it was her job to create new guns, new bombs and other technology with which to arm the troops and aid in their 'hostile negotiations'. Indeed, she had a personal fascination with machines as well as weapons of mass destruction. If Hojo's aspirations bore fruit, there'd be no more need for automated robot drones or new guns because their troops would BE the weapons and be more powerful than ANYTHING she could produce. So the only way she could save her budget and the future of her department was to downplay and discredit the discoveries being laid out right now.

"The point, dear Scarlet, is that standardized weapons are predictable and as such it is inevitable that the enemy will find ways to defend against them," Hojo replied with a sharp tone of voice. "By ensuring that each host is unique, it will become necessary for the enemies of Shinra to develop defenses for each and every one of them. Can you imagine the difficulty of devising defenses for ten unique people? For a hundred?"

The man had a point.

The key to any conflict was learning what weapons the enemy had and finding a way to minimize their effectiveness, or neutralize them outright. However this in itself was a weakness if you possessed so many weapons that the cost of neutralizing all of them was more than the enemy could possibly handle. If they created fifty different super soldiers and each of them had a unique ability, then it would take fifty different countermeasures in order to defeat them. The possibilities were monumental but before he got too far ahead of himself he needed to know just what sort of limitations he would have to cope with.

"Assuming that I give you permission to proceed, how long before the 'hosts' are ready to be trained to use their 'gifts'?" he asked, hoping that he would get a favorable reply.

"It… will take some time," Hojo replied with a cautiously optimistic tone of voice. "I already have five different possible methods for grafting the gene onto the host but we are walking into uncharted waters, Mister President. There are so many variables to consider, not the least of which is whether or not only certain specimens are compatible with the gene. If only those with specific DNA configurations can accept and express abilities then it will be necessary to find out what those configurations are, as well as how to identify them."

"I see," he said, unable to keep the disappointment from his voice. "Is there any way determining these 'configurations' could be expedited? I would be quite pleased if at least that hurdle could be overcome sooner rather than later."

"Expediting the matter would require a great deal of test subjects from all age groups and all regions of the world. Both male and female," Hojo replied in his usual analytical tone of voice. "I would hazard a guess at… a hundred to start. With a little luck I should have the data I need before anyone outside of Shinra begins to suspect anything."

He knew all too well that Hojo didn't care one whit about whether or not the masses noticed the missing people. To that man the only thing that mattered was science, discovering the secrets of existence, and if he had to sacrifice the human race to get those secrets there wouldn't be a bit of hesitation. Likely the man was only showing 'caution' because he believed it would be the only way his request would be granted. He wasn't a fool. He knew that Hojo was using him just as much as he was using Hojo. It was a give and take relationship just as much as it was a chess match between the two of them.

Both of them knew that the other had a plan to do away with them when there was nothing further to gain from their 'partnership' but he was confident that he'd come out on top. Why? Because he was Hojo's sole source of resources and as a result he'd be able to monitor carefully everything that entered the man's grasp. He'd even had a private meeting with Gast where he'd confided in the man about the concerns he'd had about Hojo before requesting that the man keep an eye on their mutual acquaintance.

Covertly.

The man was no spy but fortunately Hojo was arrogant enough that it was unlikely the mad scientist would ever consider Gast a threat.

Already some tidbits of useful information had found its way into his hands concerning Project S that had not been in Hojo's official report. Not enough to prompt him to take action but enough to consider heightening surveillance in the near future. He would need to know precisely when the point of no return arrived so he could slip in his own measures to ensure the 'prototype' remained loyal to Shinra. It was a basic rule of business to always make sure you kept the upper hand in any relationship, whether it was with employees or the civilian masses.

The upper hand and everything needed to bring it down like an iron fist on any who stood in his way.

 _ **Gongagga Reactor Labs**_

 _ **Hojo's POV**_

"Experiment sixty-seven," he said as he looked at the tube of glass filled with Mako. "Efforts thus far to impart Subject X's regenerative ability onto a host have failed. While I personally don't care about creating a super soldier army for President Shinra, there exists a side benefit of helping me copy the gene I am referring to henceforth as the X-gene. Attempting to graft the entire gene onto host and then letting it do whatever it wants is too extreme a measure at this point. The current states of the hosts are proof enough that I need to scale back my efforts or else I'll run through test subjects far too quickly.

"As such I have decided to expose Subject X to a substance that has delivered very promising results with Project S thus far and, thanks to my spies, also indicate positive results with Project G: Mako." He nodded to one of the insects that had been assigned to him as an assistant at the Gongaga facility. "It has proven to be a great stabilizer with the Jenova cells, even if I haven't quite managed to determine the ideal mixture. By submerging Subject X in Mako I will be able to see just how violent the reaction will be between the regenerative ability and the substance's natural abilities. If my theory is correct, using Mako as a medium will increase the probability of successful gene grafting by forty-five percent. If not… his regenerative ability should be prove adequate to keep the Mako from terminating his life."

With the sound of gears turning and metal sliding a hatch opened up in the ceiling, Subject X, in restraints, was lowered towards the tube, sedated just right so that the sedative wouldn't interfere with the experiment. The glass of the tube was several inches thick so brute strength would prove ineffective and the clamps around the subject's forearms had been specially designed to keep the claws from deploying. Even if the clamps failed, it would take time for Subject X to free himself from his restraints and the tube wasn't wide enough to allow for powerful swings. By the time the man managed to chip away at the glass enough to break it, the sedatives incorporated into the restraints would stop him in his tracks.

"Open the tube," he ordered and promptly it was proving that at least those underlings he'd been assigned could follow simple orders.

Once the lid of the tube opened up Subject X was lowered inside and immediately he began to notice a reaction as the flesh came into contact with the liquid. It wasn't the typical reaction one would expect from a corrosive reaction but it was definitely greater than what he'd observed in the past with ordinary test subjects. It only got worse once Subject X was fully submerged so he made a note to experiment with various ratios of blood to Mako afterwards in order to learn more. Over the course of his past experiments he'd already extracted several gallons of the specimen's blood, with some of it having been transported to Shinra Mansion in Nibelheim where he worked on Project S. Easily enough to learn what he needed to and, if he needed more, there were ways to replicated it without needing Subject X to be present.

"Status of the subject?" he asked the 'assistant' by the monitor console.

"Readings indicate a sharp increase in life signs. It started the moment Subject X became one third submerged in the Mako," the assistant replied as the imbecile tried to multitask between the readings and answering his questions. "If this keeps up the subject is going to regain consciousness in less than a minute."

"Continue to monitor and begin a thirty percent infusion of the sedative on my order and not a moment before," he commanded even as the signs of the reaction in the tube began to clear up some.

Continuing to observe, he soon came to conclude that the possible reason for the increase in life signs could be due to the regenerative ability's effort to counteract Mako poisoning. It was a scientific certainty that significant exposure to Mako in its concentrated form resulted in severe neurological stress, often ending in catatonia. However Subject X was not like the others he'd exposed to concentrated Mako energy so it would be interesting to see what difference his regenerative ability would make on the outcome.

It didn't take long for Subject X's eyes to open up but encouragingly enough there was indeed some awareness but also of duress, indicating the specimen was at least partially susceptible to the effects of concentrated Mako. Struggling against the restraints soon followed but it appeared to be more panicked than rational and deliberate, so he was not too concerned.

That changed when his eyes detected signs of change from Subject X's hands, causing him to look closer only to see three recognizable bits of metal poking out from between the knuckles.

The specimen's CLAWS!

"Increase power to the magnetic clamps!" he ordered, making it clear there was to be no delay in following these orders.

"I'm trying, Professor, but the Mako is interfering with the energy flow to the clamps!" the assistant said even as the witless fool attempted to overcome the obstacle.

"Imbecile," he said as he walked over to the young man and seized control of the console himself.

It was forever the burden of geniuses such like him to be forced to work with morons that couldn't even be called intelligent, much less qualified. He divided his attention between the tube and the console as he worked to ensure that no more of the specimen's implanted weapons emerged. While he had confidence that the restraints would hold he despised anything less than precision in his experiments and this deviation was not to be tolerated. However, as seconds became minutes, he was forced to grudgingly admit that perhaps the young man's difficulties were not entirely unwarranted since he too was having trouble establishing a solid grip with the clamps. Despite his increasing concentration, the claws made of a metal he STILL had not been able to identify continued to creep ever further from their organic sheathes. At the current rate of progress they would soon be fully extended but this only caused him annoyance so with a huff he ceased his efforts in favor of personally observing the readings displayed concerning the subject's vital signs.

 _Increased adrenaline, heart rate and breathing,_ he thought, marking down the specifics efficiently. _Consistent with being under duress._

However with a snap that was barely perceivable due to the muffling effects of the Mako and the thick glass he watched in shock as Subject X somehow managed to break one arm free of its restraint. That should have been impossible since he'd conducted impeccable calculations based on the video footage the spy had brought back from Wutai, coupled with his own estimations based on both muscle mass as well as the unusually high weight of the specimen. He'd been certain that he had made sure that the restraints would be beyond Subject X's ability to break but obviously there had been an error in his data.

He typed in the command to begin administering the sedative at full strength since there was little point at doing it at a reduced level as his experiment was already compromised. However, before the chemical cocktail could travel the required distance, the liberated arm slashed clumsily at the plastic tube, preventing the drug from reaching its intended target.

Was the subject doing this consciously or did it instinctively recognize the threat the tube represented?

It didn't matter as, with another slash, Subject X managed to cut through the restraint binding his other arm and, with the drug removed as a method of neutralization, he had but one choice.

"All guards to lab two! Sedative twenty-five load out!" he ordered after pressing the intercom button that would broadcast his voice to everyone on the floor, including the Shinra guards.

While he hadn't really thought of it as necessary at the time, one of the things he'd noticed during his time in the Gongaga lab was that President Shinra had seen fit to equip the guards with semi-automatic dart guns, with each dart filled with his special sedative. He'd considered it unnecessary due to his confidence in his restraints as well as his own intellect but apparently they would be the only means by which the current situation would be contained.

His eyes narrowed in anger as he anticipated President Shinra gloating over how his perceived unnecessary action had actually proven quite fortuitous. He would double his efforts from here on to ensure that he would not have to sit through another afterwards.

It was just as the first batch of guards entered the room with their weapons at the ready that Subject X finished freeing himself from his restraints and began to attack the glass. Much as he'd originally planned the dimensions of the tube made it so that powerful swings were impossible but that proved to be of little aid since, even with only a few inches, the claws still cut. Faster and faster the glass was torn into until finally it could no longer remain intact and a jagged hole was created, causing the Mako inside to spill out onto the floor. The guards backed away a few steps, no doubt fearful of coming into contact with the dangerous substance, but this proved to be a tactical error. With the opposition focused on something else Subject X leapt through the hole it'd created, uncaring of the cuts the jagged glass around the edges created. More like an animal than a man the specimen looked about the room as though evaluating potential threats and, when those eyes landed on him, a spike of fear shot up within him. With a growl of hostility Subject X began to turn towards him but thankfully that same noise had been enough to prompt the guards to open fire.

 _Best to leave such lowly business to those of appropriate status,_ he thought as he began to make his way to the nearest exit. _Once the specimen has been properly subdued I'll have him put back in his cell and modify my restraint design. Clearly some revision is needed._

As the heavy metal door of the lab slid into place he made his way to the security room where the feeds from all the security cameras in the base came together. Just because he would have to wait to do some experiments with Subject X didn't mean that he couldn't still collect data, no matter how briefly. It didn't take him long to enter the security room and, with a few quick orders, he had all of the monitors display nothing but the lab and made sure it would all be recorded. What he saw on the screens, though, both surprised him and intrigued him because they clearly showed several darts in Subject X but no sign of the sedative within taking effect. More than that a third of the guards that had come into the lab were already dead on the ground, some with limbs completely severed from their bodies along with one case of decapitation.

 _Intriguing. With that many darts it should be unconscious on the ground and remain in that state for several hours,_ he thought as his mind worked to consider the possibilities. _Could the Mako have somehow enhanced the regenerative ability? It would explain the sudden immunity to the sedative._

This would imply that Mako could successfully be combined with Subject X's biology to great effect and solidified his intent to experiment with mixture ratios in the future. If he could find the ideal combination, he would be one step closer to giving President Shinra his super soldiers while also furthering Project S.

Watching, he saw the last handful of guards turn flee from the man-animal that had killed their comrades. Cowards!

"This is Professor Hojo!" he said after pressing the button on the intercom and speaking into the attached microphone. "All guards are to make every effort to subdue Subject X. Refusal to carry out this order will result in the immediate 'termination' of your Shinra contracts."

While for most Shinra troopers termination of their contracts merely meant they would be unemployed, for those stationed at secret labs and facilities like this one it meant death and being buried in an unmarked grave.

After a few minutes he saw with some satisfaction that the guards had taken his words with all the weight they were due and were attacking Subject X with all their measly strength. Some used the darts filled with sedative while others used normal assault rifles filled with conventional bullets but this did little to improve things. With a slight adjustment and zoom on one of the camera feeds he was able to watch as a flesh wound from a bullet healed entirely after a mere second of it being created. Fascinating! This confirmed that the Mako was indeed enhancing the specimen's natural healing ability since, in previous experiments, it'd taken several seconds longer for such a wound to heal fully. Still, it meant that it would require a weapon capable of inflicting much greater damage than traditional firearms to subdue the specimen. Explosives? No. While precautions had been taken, the use of explosives would risk damaging the Mako reactor, especially since he did not know how many direct hits would be necessary to overcome the enhanced regeneration ability.

Too bad it seemed one of the guards had chosen to ignore the potential risk and had come into view of the cameras with a RPG as well as a bag filled with spare rockets.

"STOP! DO NOT USE EXPLOSIVES!" he yelled into the intercom microphone but the idiot guard showed no signs of having heard him.

One rocket shot forth from the launcher and streaked towards Subject X, only to miss and destroy a section of pipes as well as concrete that was definitely confirmed.

"The speakers in that area must've been destroyed by the gunfire, sir," the guard in the room with him said with rising concern.

"Of course they were, you fool!" he snapped, only just restraining the desire to take out the sidearm he kept tucked under his lab coat and shooting the idiot.

Contemplating the situation he utilized his knowledge of Mako reactors and what would need to be damaged or destroyed in order for detonation to become a possibility. They were rather deep but, in order to draw out the Mako energy from the ground, the reactor went equally deep, with only concrete to shield itself from RPG fire. By his reckoning there were only two or three sections of the structure that would result in complete destruction if they were struck with an explosive. Fortunately two of those targets were five levels above them at the moment and the last was above ground, so as long as they kept Subject X on the current level there'd only be a substantial repair bill to worry about.

Calming down, he watched as the assault continued even as the non-RPG wielding guards made an effort to give their comrade a clear line of sight to his target. Sadly it looked like while a direct hit was successful in knocking the specimen of its feet, the damage didn't linger for very long, much less result in immediate unconsciousness. As much as the increased healing ability fascinated him, it was proving to be an annoyance since it was increasing the difficulty of subduing Subject X.

At the rate Shinra troopers were being killed, it might prove prudent to relocate both himself as well as crucial materials until such time as the specimen was back in chains. Regardless of the outcome, there would likely be damage enough that it would affect the results of any experiments he tried to carry out until repairs were completed. He HATED inaccurate test results.

"Order a contingent of guards to begin moving the containers in storage room F to the eastern elevator and take them to the surface," he ordered the guard with him in the security room. "I will join them as soon as I collect a few things."

Without waiting for the guard he turned and left, heading for the room he'd appropriated to contain most of his papers as well as the computer containing the bulk of his research on Subject X. While the odds of the specimen or one of the troopers fighting him triggering a detonation of the Mako reactor were small, Subject X had already proven to be full of surprises. Coupled with the low I.Q. of Shinra troopers, it would be best to prepare for the worst.

So long as he had the contents of storage room F, his data and a sufficient amount of the specimen's blood, he could still achieve his goals.

Nothing would stop him from achieving them.

 _ **Xander's POV**_

"RRAAAGGH!" he roared as he cut another trooper in half from left hip to right shoulder.

It was all instinct. No conscious thought or rationality.

Why? Because his mind was aflame with information, all of which vied for his attention, making his awareness of the real world muddled at best.

 _Are you better, son?_

 _Still cold, father._

Seeing something coming at him fast he dove under it, rolling back to his feet with skill he shouldn't have had before charging the source of the object head on. Time was difficult to keep a clear grasp of, so he didn't know for how long he'd been fighting or how many soldiers he'd killed. The only thing that was clear in his mind was that if he didn't kill every last one that attacked him, they'd put him in chains again.

THAT was something he could not permit under any circumstances.

Flashes of images assaulted him. Images of wars, wars spanning decades, and in them he fought side by side with… with… his brother? Then seeing a row of men in military uniforms lined up in front of him with rifles, with at least three pointed right at him like a firing squad. They had executed him, or at least tried to. He wasn't that easy to kill.

 _What? Where?_ he thought since he didn't like the thought of suddenly thinking that these 'memories' were his.

They weren't and, even as he cut through the weapon on the soldier's shoulder before doing the same to the trooper, he looked for a way to get out of the place he was in. He needed to get someplace isolated so he could focus entirely on what was happening inside rather than split half his jumbled focus on what was happening on the outside. Seeing something that a part of him identified as a way out, he ran over to the wall of metal with a slit in the center going from floor to ceiling and used his claws to cut through the wall, revealing a shaft with cables dangling in the center. Leaping, he grabbed hold of the cables and began to climb upwards, certain that if he went all the way he'd definitely escape to clean free air.

Even as he climbed the images came as the door to what he presumed was a jail cell of some kind opened up to reveal a man in uniform with the rank of Major. He looked at him and Victor with politeness, like someone intending to do them a favor, but neither of them completely trusted the man.

 _My name is Major William Stryker._ _You boys tired of running? Tired of denying your true nature?_

 _What do you care?_ Victor asked snidely, voicing his distrust.

 _Oh, I care. What I care about is how valuable you are,_ Stryker replied, never losing that 'helpful' expression. _I'm putting together a special team with special privileges. Now tell me, how would you like to REALLY serve your country?_

A feeling like the one he'd only experienced when he was expecting a trap flowed through him but he did his best to shove it aside as the cable he was using to climb began to move.

In the opposite direction he wished to go.

Looking to the side for a means of continuing his ascent, he found an alcove in the side of the shaft that looked to be just big enough so, with a leap, he entered it, flattening himself against the cold concrete. With speed typical of an elevator car the box went by him, avoiding scraping flesh of his chest by less than an inch, providing him an unobstructed route to the surface. Leaping to the cable in the center once more he resumed his climb, doubling his pace in case his enemies tried to send the elevator car back up at him.

Another flash hit him was the top of the shaft came into view, of him rapidly approaching a barn on foot, with rage and revenge the only emotions present.

 _VICTOR!_ he yelled, knowing precisely where his brother was by the scent he'd followed.

With a crash he came through the door of the barn, revealing it to be a bar or restaurant of some kind but those details didn't matter in the face of the BASTARD sitting on a stool on the other side of the room.

 _Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,_ Victor said in a mocking tone, completely lacking in remorse.

 _Guys, whatever this is, take it outside,_ the bartender said, sounding like he didn't want a fighting destroying his bar.

 _Why?_ he asked, feeling it was the only question that mattered to him at the moment.

 _Why? You don't call, you don't write; how else am I supposed to get your attention?_ Victor replied with the same cocky, provoking grin that never failed to get under someone's skin.

The scene vanished and he was glad since he was now at the top and, with a leap, crossed the gap to the other side of the shaft before using his claws to pry open the doors. Once he was through he found himself beholding a maze of walkways, pipes, pillars and wiring that made him SO certain he didn't want to even attempt to understand how it all worked together. Instead he took a sniff of the air and sifted through the scents to find the one he wanted: fresh air. Unless the place was airtight, smells from the outside would always find a way to seem in and, even with all the artificial ones cluttering things up, he could track it to its source just the same.

 _There,_ he thought as he finally managed to find the fresh air amidst all the rest.

Moving as quickly as he could, he navigated his way through the labyrinth, never letting himself stray too far away from the direction he sensed the fresh air coming from. It wasn't long though before more soldiers appeared to once again try to capture him and return him to the torment that he had been submerged in for so long. They fired at him with their weapons but they did little more than cause him pain, the force of the bullet impacts breaking his stride at random. He might not be able to see the fear on their faces due to their helmets but he could smell the growing terror on them as he got closer to them with no sign of stopping despite their best efforts to arrest his approach. As soon as he was close enough he tore into them, either disarming or killing them depending on what was easier to do at the moment.

What the remaining five did next though threw him for a loop they all came at him at once with daggers drawn but, instead of using some skill or strategy, they just lunged at him intent on dog piling him. Even as he tried to fight them off with his claws all they did was use their daggers to make sure they couldn't be thrown away by digging them deep into his flesh. Whether they did so intentionally or not, some of them even angled their weapons so that they'd hook around his bones, making them that much harder to remove. He tried to figure out why they were doing this when his ears picked up a familiar sound, causing him to look up in time to see two rockets heading towards him.

The five were sacrificing themselves.

He only managed a second or two of renewed and upgraded struggling before the RPGs struck, engulfing him in fire, shrapnel and shockwave. However the pain was nothing compared to what he'd endured in the past few weeks so it was relatively easy for him to force himself back to his feet even as his flesh knitted itself back together, extinguishing the flames on his body in the process. As the last bits of shrapnel were expelled from his body, he looked in the directions he figured the RPGs had been fired from and soon found the ones who'd attacked him. Since being peppered by more was unappealing to him, he advanced on their positions intent on gutting both of them so they could no longer send more projectiles at him.

Without their fellows to pin him down it was easier to evade the rockets sent his way, causing them to strike at the machinery and piping around him. Following the quickest route to his targets he leapt from walkway to walkway, up pipes that had handholds he could use and even used some thick cables that'd been within reach. In the end he came to within one leap of getting to his first target and but, even as he did so, the soldier managed to get one final rocket off. Whether it was due to luck, skill or chance he executed a backhand that managed to knock the rocket off course without detonating it, causing it to spiral off to the side and out of his field of vision. Landing on the soldier, they both got knocked off their feet but, as soon as he got a clear shot, he thrust his claws home impaling the trooper clean through.

BOOM!

 _That was a little bigger than it shoulda been,_ he thought even as he got to his feet and looked back in the direction he'd knocked the rocket towards.

His surprise only rose when he located a rather large section of obliterated machinery, with flames billowing upwards into the air.

"WARNING. PRIMARY COOLANT PUMP OFFLINE," came a synthetic voice through the P.A. system. "MAKO REACTOR CORE TEMPERATURE RISING. REACTOR OVERLOAD IN T-MINUS TEN MINUTES."

Fear shot up within him as he realized the danger he was in and he cast aside any idea of going after the remaining RPG soldier, hoping that the man would have sense enough to prioritize survival over success. Taking another sniff of the air, he reestablished the sensory lock on the fresh air and then tore off as quickly as his feet could carry him. He had no idea how big a Mako reactor explosion would be but what little had been shown in the game made it clear that distance would play a big factor in whether or not he'd survive. Opening what doors were unlocked and slicing through any that were not, his concern rose with every one that didn't reveal the outside world but in the end his determination was rewarded. With one final push he emerged into open air and it felt WONDERFUL both on his skin as well as in his lungs.

He didn't let himself get distracted, though, since he still had the 'small matter' of the impending reactor explosion to outrun.

Picking a direction at random he sprinted away, determined to get as far as he could and hopefully it'd be enough to keep the damage he'd have to live through to a minimum. He soon entered the forest that surrounded the Mako reactor and it slowed him down some as he had to navigate around trees, boulders and various other things but there was nothing he could do about that. Trying to claw himself a straighter path would've slowed him down even more no matter how sharp the blades were so it was better to just adapt to the environment rather than try to change it.

He didn't know how much time had gone by or how close the reactor was to blowing up but, with the suddenness of a freight train hitting him, his waiting came to an end. With a power and a brightness he'd never experienced before the shockwave of the explosion slammed into him, driving the air from his lungs while tossing him into the air. He was airborne for only a handful of seconds before he hit the ground but soon after he did, other things that'd been tossed slammed into him from behind but that didn't last long.

Or at least he didn't think it had but it was a little hard to be sure when the heat and the fire from the explosion reached out to touch his body.

He screamed at the top of his lungs as the heat seared his skin and another scene flashed into his mind.

 _When it starts, whatever the reason is that you're doing this, focus on that,_ the woman said as she finished drawing the lines and circles on his body. _Maybe it will help._

 _Trust me. I've been through worse._

 _No. You haven't._ the woman said before walking away.

Pain unlike even the torturous experiments he'd been put through suffused his being and might've even succeeded in breaking him mentally. Fortunately the human body, even one with a mutant gene, had built in safeties to prevent this from happening and so unconsciousness swallowed him whole.

Would he awaken once more a prisoner or retain the freedom he'd fought so hard for?

Only time would tell.

 _ **Midgar, Shinra HQ**_

 _ **Two Days Later**_

 _ **President Shinra's POV**_

"This… this is quite the problem you've handed me, Hojo," he said as he put down the final report on the Gongaga situation. "Not only has virtually the entire town been destroyed but so has the majority of the population. If you had at least successfully recovered Subject X I'd be more inclined to accept this incident as the price of future success. However, without him…"

He let the man fill in the blanks since there was no shortage of fodder thanks to the gossip that'd been floating around the building as well as what was in the newspapers.

"I… understand, Mister President," Professor Hojo said, feigning regret and apology. "I have no excuse for this… problem. I had taken every precaution necessary. It was not enough."

"Evidently not," he chastised as he got up off his chair and walked to the window overlooking Midgar. "Fortunately we were able to foist the blame for the blast on 'a dangerous radical movement' that opposes the use of mako reactors. We haven't given the movement a name since that'd just make people try to find out more. It also allows us to take action against a few troublemakers by claiming that they're a part of the 'movement'. The excuse will only last a few weeks at best before people get suspicious but that'll be long enough."

Indeed, he already had the Turks making up a list of Shinra's enemies with the necessary background to feasibly connect them to the fictional movement. By tomorrow they'd be able to make up a plan for rounding them up while orchestrating an appetizing drama for the masses in order to make Shinra out to be 'heroes of justice'.

"However in order to ensure that something can be salvaged from this debacle, I need to know that you can continue with the superhuman project as you originally outlined," he said with moderate intimidation in his tone.

"Indeed, sir," Hojo replied, sounding as though his mood was improving. "Through my experiments on subject X I have made great strides towards giving Shinra superhuman soldiers. Indeed, the events leading up to subject X's escape were crucial in bringing about those strides. All that is required is to ascertain the right mixture of mako and the gene responsible for subject X's powers. From there I can begin administering it to suitable test subjects."

"I am afraid that for the time being acquiring 'volunteers' in the usual manner is not possible," he said, recalling what he'd been told about the public climate at present. "Before, it was easy enough to offer the poor and the destitute work. Few would miss them and those that spoke out, no one would listen to. However, if we're to sell the story about a movement being responsible for Gongaga, we need to ensure that any disappearances or 'apprehensions' can be feasibly connected to that."

"I understand, sir, but without human test subjects, it could take years before I can promise reliable results," Hojo said, sounding worried about his proper research.

"I might be able to send you a handful of test subjects a year in the form of troublesome employees but that would be it," he said, knowing that there would always be employees too foolish to face reality.

"Perhaps… perhaps I can propose an alternate method?" Hojo said as an eerie light blossomed in his eyes.

"I'm listening," he said, knowing that occasionally the scientist had bursts of brilliance that extended beyond his usual field of expertise.

For the next hour he listened to Hojo's plan and he had to admit that it was inspired.

Not only that but it would provide a sizeable financial boost to Shinra that would compensate for the 'humanitarian aid' they were sending to the survivors of Gongaga as well as anyone in the surrounding area that was affected by the reactor's explosion. It was a little more long term than he would've preferred but it was a necessary sacrifice in order to ensure that no one would suspect the truth of the matter.

As things stood there would not be a need for superhuman soldiers for some time yet. They were still in the beginning stages of their efforts to expand into Wutai and it was his choice that they pursue covert methods for getting what they wanted. Talks had begun with the various noble families of the country that would prove receptive to Shinra and could be convinced to act on the company's behalf. At the same time plans were in motion to weaken the current emperor's standing with his people so that a new clan could take control of the country. If all went well then there wouldn't be any need for open combat or violence of any kind.

He would wait to see how the subtler methods turned out first before assuming a more aggressive posture.

"Very well, Professor. Your plan is sound and any 'tragedies' can be easily explained away with a panel of 'experts'," he said with a nod of permission. "However keep in mind that there must be NOTHING that could connect Shinra to what happens. No one can recognize your work or determine that what happened was artificial in nature."

"I completely understand, Mister President," Hojo said with a nod of gratitude and acceptance. "I shall keep you apprised of all developments of significance."

With that the scientist left, giving him his office entirely to himself.

Walking over to his desk, he pressed a button that would connect him to the one person capable of keeping tabs on Hojo.

"Veld? Hojo's leaving for Nibelheim to continue his research," he said to the leader of the Turks. "However, with Professor Gast's lack of expertise in surveillance and the changes in Hojo's situation, I believe more observant eyes are required. I want you to send an agent to Nibelheim under the cover of protecting the scientists there as well as Project S. If Hojo inquires, he is to be told that the Gongaga incident might spark random attacks from upset civilians and that this is just a precaution. Understood?"

"I'll send, Agent Valentine," Veld replied after a moment of consideration. "He's new enough to the Turks not to suspect anything shady but sharp enough to catch Hojo if the madman tries anything."

"Good. Impress upon the young man that he's not to break his cover unless something truly important is afoot," he said, making sure the importance of the stipulation was understood.

"Understood," Veld said before rudely terminating the call.

 _Still bothered by Kalm, I see,_ he thought as he recalled the mild miscalculation that'd lead to the town's destruction. _If he doesn't get over that soon, I might need to place someone close to watch him._

It was a sad fact that not everyone was cut out for the sort of work the Turks were called on to do and more than a few had been unable to kill their pesky consciences quickly enough. As a result they were 'reassigned' and, once they reached their new post, they 'disappeared', never to be seen again. Lesser members of the group were easily gotten rid of and replaced but Veld had proven he could get results and, aside from his bouts of defiance, could focus on the mission at hand. So for the time being he'd let the man go about his business and only arrange a formal meeting should his efficiency levels drop.

Good help was hard to find, after all.


End file.
